


Muddy Waters

by summerofspock



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Autistic Character, Bullying, M/M, Minor Character Death, Roommates, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk leaves Riverside on a full scholarship to attend university in San Francisco, but he trades the drama of his small-town life for a different kind when he meets his new roommate who suffers from a strange condition that makes him less-than-popular and sometimes hard to deal with. Then again Jim Kirk was never one to back down from a challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The morning of September 1st in Riverside, Iowa saw the beginnings of a typical Saturday: Mr Murray opening the hardware store downtown, Janette slumping in bleary eyed and slightly hungover to open her beloved bakery, everywhere curtains were being drawn back to let the summer sun shine in.

In a small rundown farmhouse just outside the town, Jim Kirk sat holding his mother’s hair back as she vomited into the toilet for the 6th time since 4 am when she had stumbled in, coked out and bruised in ways Jim did not care to think about.  After the retching stopped, Winona spat into the toilet and sunk back against the yellowed bathtub. She coughed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before her head lolled back in unconsciousness. Jim checked her pulse and, satisfied that she was still alive, he exited the small room that stank of alcohol, vomit, blood and dirt.

A scorching shower in the upstairs bathroom washed away the remnants of Winona’s filth and Jim barely spared himself a glance in the mirror before throwing his toiletries into an old bag. He peeked into the bathroom where Winona was now snoring lightly and felt a familiar numbness in his gut.

On less than four hours of sleep (and when had he last eaten?) James Kirk exited the house for the last time, tossed his final bag into the backseat of his Jeep where he had slowly been moving all of his possessions and drove away from the shithole he’d called home for nineteen years.

Despite the guilt eating away at his calm, he tore out of Riverside heading west. Going towards freedom, a new life and a new Kirk. His chains might finally be gone.

All doubts Jim had had over the last few weeks faded away as he rolled his windows down and played his favorite classic rock. He sang at the top of his lungs while the wind pressed against his skin and skated through his not-blond-not-brown hair. Twenty-seven hours from Riverside to San Francisco. Two days of driving if he stopped to sleep. He could nap in his car at a truck stop or maybe try to power through with red bull and coffee. He was going to miss the first day of orientation either way. Having to stay to take care of Winona had really fucked his schedule, but at that moment, he felt so high on life that he pushed his worries aside until all he could feel was the sun kiss his skin, the wind on his face, the leather beneath his hands and the steady bass thrum through his body; a moment preserved in his mind forever. If he never felt happy again, he would always have this.

Three red bulls and twenty hours later, manufactured energy was not enough and Jim had to stop off in the middle of bumfuck-nowhere, Nevada to remedy his shaking hands and flop sweat. Smiley’s Truck Stop did not appear to be a friendly place but it was 2 am and Jim could care less. He forced himself inside to use the bathroom before buying a water bottle and a variety of snack foods. Maybe he’d finally be hungry in the morning.

It was the heat of the sun that woke him up. Rubbing the grit from his eyes, he snatched up his phone saw an unanswered text blinking next to the time. 9:13 am.

 _Shit_. Jim thought as he fumbled to start his car while clicking open the unread message.

Bones>Jim

_Dammit, Jim. You were supposed to be here yesterday._

Jim slammed his hand against the steering wheel to ease a bit of his frustration.

Jim>Bones

_Sorry. Family stuff. Got started late. Be there this afternoon._

He chucked his phone into the passenger seat and drove off.

He hit the highway just as his stomach growled loudly. Grunting at it, Jim leaned over and snagged a bag of beef jerky from the floorboards where he had deposited it yesterday. Someone honked at him as he did his best to steer one-hand while trying to open the bag with his teeth.

“Agh, fuck off,” Jim yelled as the disgruntled driver passed him.

He continued in a more controlled fashion as he stuffed a piece of jerky in his mouth. He nearly spat it out when he bit down.

“Teriyaki?! What’s wrong with me?”

He must have been more tired than he thought.

 

Six hours later, (that’s right _six_ , nobody say Jim Kirk can’t maneuver a vehicle) Jim followed signs that said “Parent Parking” and “Registration” up to Starr College. He was a bit nervous and he could feel it in the tight coil of his muscles and the dampness of his hands.  

The signs led to a parking lot directly across from three large metal and glass building that look a bit like dorms, but Jim wasn’t really sure. Stepping out the car, the air around him smelled of wisteria and asphalt. He squared his shoulders and swallowed. Jim noticed the field to his left and the other buildings he saw behind it. _His_ college campus.

 

A temporary booth was set up in the courtyard-like area surrounded by the three buildings. The corners of the plastic canopy flapped in the light breeze; a tired-looking young woman sat behind a fold out table. Jim walked up to her and, upon seeing him, she visibly straightened.

“Hey. I’m here for registration. Sorry I’m late. The trip was longer than I thought it would be,” he grinned at her and she tucked her hair behind her ear with a small smile. Women were easy, he thought to himself with a laugh. If his blue eyes didn’t do it, then his grin always had them melting.

“Oh, it’s no problem. Last name?” she asked, poised to shuffle through the packets.

“Kirk. James T.”

She handed him one of the few remaining packets on the table and indicated the piles of paper. “You’re in Enterprise Hall room 109. From left to right those are dorm rules, map of campus, orientation schedule-which you don’t need since you missed it- list of campus emergency contact numbers and that’s it.”

Jim had gathered one of each sheet as she explained and now stood, a little dumbfounded, as he glanced around him. “Where’s my dorm?”

The girl smiled softly and said, “It’s the one in the middle.”

He nodded and thanked her before returning to his car to grab the essentials. He desperately needed a shower and to change out of his dirty clothes. Grabbing his phone, he shot his friend a quick text.

Jim>Bones

_Just got here. Where are you?_

Slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder he felt some of the tension ease away as he palmed the key to his new home. Room 109, Enterprise. He could do this.

The building was air conditioned and Jim uttered a swift prayer of thanks as he took in his surroundings. The foyer of the building had a grand piano, a fire place surrounded by couches and chairs set up in welcoming circles. The familiarity of the place struck him until he realized the resemblance: _hotel lobby_ , he thought with a smirk. Shaking his head, he followed the hastily pasted signs indicating where to go for which dorm rooms. Apparently, 101-109 were on the left at the back of the lobby.

The RA had obviously decorated the hall with some sort of theme in mind that Jim had difficulty comprehending. Bugs? Rainforest? Jungle? Tarzan? Maybe the theme was green. The streamers seemed a bit unnecessary.

109 was at the back of the hall on the left and it was then that Jim realized he had a roommate. He read the name tags on the door. His declared: JAMES KIRK, IOWA and had pictures of footballs. Jim raised his eyebrows at the silly craft. His roommate’s tag was undecorated and simply said COLE GRAYSON, CALIFORNIA. Jim shrugged and pushed the door open.

The room was larger than he had expected with matching twin beds pressed into opposite corners. Two black pressboard desks were placed in between the beds and against the window on the wall. His survey of the room stopped as he took in the person to his right. A boy dressed in black pants and a blue polo sat crossed legged on a simple gray coverlet and regarded him with calm eyes.

Jim tried to make a “my-bad”expression as he tossed his duffel on his bed. “Hi, I’m Jim. Sorry I got here so late. Missed orientation and everythi--.” The word got lost in his throat as the full image before him sank in. The kid had extraordinarily pale skin that contrasted heavily with his black hair and slightly slanted thick black eye brows. The paleness wasn’t what shocked him though. It was the ears. The barely too large, definitely pointed ears. Jim blinked. Jim swallowed. Goblin? Gremlin? No. Jim shook himself. This was the real world for god’s sake.

Smiling his most disarming smile, Jim stepped towards the kid, holding out his hand, and said, “You must be Cole?”

Rising smoothly from his position on the bed, Cole expertly avoided Jim’s outstretched hand. “I have already procured the necessary transfer papers. Another room can be assigned. Sign here,” he said, voice deeper than Jim had expected from such a scrawny kid, and he indicated some papers on the desk by his bed.

“What? I’m not getting another room.” Jim was tired and confused. He just wanted to shower.

Turning towards him, Jim also noted that Cole was taller than him by at least two inches. _Deep breaths, Kirk_ , Jim told himself as the disarmingly expressive brown eyes fixed on his.

“I think it unfair that I should have to move rooms considering that I am fully moved in whereas you have yet to bring a significant number of your belongings into the room.”

Jim stared at him, aware his mouth was open, but he had no idea what to say.

There was a long pause.

“Very well.” Said with a curt nod as he began to gather his things.

A little overwhelmed, Jim just began to talk. “Whoa there. You don’t have to move out. Jesus. If you really want me to go, I guess I’ll leave.”

Jim grabbed his duffel as Cole stilled. “One moment.”

Sighing, Jim turned to face the strange guy. He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

“You do not wish to leave.”

“Um. No,” Jim replied as if stating the obvious.

“And you do not wish for me to leave.”

“No?”

“You are amenable to maintaining this living situation?”

“Well, I gotta admit I’m a little weirded out by you being all intense right now, but, yeah, I mean it’s fine.”

Cole’s shoulders relaxed marginally from their strict posture and he stepped towards Jim. “I apologize, Jim. It was not my intent to be rude.”

A little exasperated, Jim blurted, “Then why the hell did you try to kick me out, Cole ?”

“I prefer to be called Spock.”

“What?”

“It is my “nick name”.” Jim could hear the implied quotations in his speech and smiled in spite of himself. It sounded like one of those explanations that someone had told so many times that they had grown tired of it. Jim knew that feeling. Spock continued, “My mother has called me Spock since I was a young child and I find it…suitable.”

Jim realized with a laugh that, somehow, it did suit him and he ran a hand through his hair before plopping down on his bed. He gestured across the room for Spock to do the same. His roommate complied and looked at him with wary eyes.

“All right, ‘Spock’. Why did you try to kick me out of the room?”

“I did not ‘kick’ you anywhere. I merely expected the reaction of one unaccustomed to the appearance of a Vulcan Child.”

Something in his brain clicked into place and he remembered a chapter in his AP Bio book about rare genetic mutations. Of all of them, Vulcanism was the rarest. He didn’t remember the details, he wasn’t sure if there were any to know. He simply remembered the word. Vulcan. Promising himself that he would google it later, Jim kept his expression neutral in hopes that he wouldn’t offend the strange guy. “So that explains the—“ Jim gestured to his own ears questioningly.

“Ah, yes. Vulcanism also causes the cranium to be slightly misshapen, resulting in larger eyes and slanting brows. These are accompanied by malformations of other facial features. Only my ears developed incorrectly.”

“You kinda look like a goblin.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “So I have been told.”

“I guess you got picked on a lot as a kid then,” Jim replied, not really asking.

“Indeed.”

Jim shouldered his duffel before standing. “You know, I doubt going by ‘Spock’ really helped at all did it.”

“You are correct.”

“Hm.” Jim said thoughtfully.

His hand was on the doorknob of the adjoining bathroom when he heard Spock reply quietly, “But that is what my mother calls me and therefore that is who I am.”

 

When he got out of the shower he felt like a new man. He got dressed in the bathroom and then dug his phone out of the pocket of his dirty jeans.

He had two texts waiting.

Bones>Jim

_Im at this stupid pre-med seminar. I have no idea when it will end. I’ll text you to meet for dinner._

_7? The mess?_

Jim looked up from his phone and saw Spock, sitting much like he had been earlier, legs crossed atop his bed, except now he held a book. Jim wouldn’t deny it, nor could he really explain it, but he pitied the poor guy.

Jim> Bones

_Can I bring my roommate? He doesn’t know any body._

Bones replied immediately.

_More the merrier I suppose._

Jim smiled. He could hear Bones’s attitude in his text..  “Hey, Spock. Want to come with me to get dinner? I’m meeting a friend.”

Spock held his gaze, indifferent.

“Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Spock closed his book delicately and stood.

Jim clapped his hands together and grinned. “Do you know where the mess is?”

Spock looked at him like he was an idiot, but Jim just couldn’t stop smiling.

As they walked Spock queried, “I find it odd that one who comes from so far away would already know people in the vicinity.”

“Speak in regular English, Spock,” Jim said casually, greeting people they passed.

“You are from Iowa, are you not? How do you know anyone in Sacramento?”

Not really paying attention ( he was too busy taking in his surroundings), Jim replied, “Oh, Bones and I went to high school together. He graduated a year before me so I haven’t seen him in a few months, but we’ve been friends since….well forever, I guess.”

Spock arched an eyebrow. “I see.”

For some reason his tone made Jim pause. “You see what?”

“Perhaps it would be best if I returned to the room.”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it. You and Bones’ll get on swimmingly,” he said confidently as he clapped Spock on the back. 


	2. Chapter 2

The mess hall was a huge room with arching ceilings, metallic beams criss-crossing in architectural harmony with the floor to ceiling windows to the back of the room. The sunset brushed broad strokes of orange light across the floor and reflected off of the burnished metal tables. Jim scanned the room for Bones, but they were a bit early so Jim snagged a table in a quiet corner to wait for his friend.

 “Would you permit me to ask you a question?” Spock asked after sitting down.

Jim laughed. “Dude, you don’t have to ask me. You don’t have to like raise your hand for permission to speak.”

Spock cleared his throat. “Why do you refer to this man as Bones?”

“It’s a nickname, _Spock_ ,” Jim replied jokingly.

“Yes. I gathered that. I was inquiring after the story behind the name.”

Jim rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers on the table. “For the life of me, I don’t remember. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t call him that. ”

When Bones entered the hall, he spotted them immediately “Jim!” he cried with a boisterous grin and arms outstretched in greeting. They exchanged a brisk hug. Spock also stood, quiet eyes tracking the interaction as if to catalog the effect of an unexpected variable introduced into a chemical equation.

“Let’s get some grub!” Bones declared, not sparing Spock a glance. Jim felt a little embarrassed as Bones kept his arm around his shoulders to guide him over to the food line, effectively blocking Spock from the conversation. As Bones grabbed a plate with a grumbled, “What is this shit? It’s not food.” Jim looked at his roommate, hardly surprised that he seemed completely unperturbed.

Jim heaped his plate with the first real food he’d seen in two days: corn, roasted potatoes, meatloaf and one type of every dessert available. If he was going to pay eight dollars to eat there, he would get his money’s worth.  Also, they had pie, cookies AND some sort of trifle pudding thing. It would be a crime not to at least try it all.

Spock had disappeared while Jim and Bones went through the line and Jim let out a sigh, feeling both guilty and annoyed, as he plopped his plates down next to Bones’.  The kid could at least try.

Talking around a large piece of potato, Bones asked, “So what made you so late? You look like hell man.”

Jim shook his head and arranged a substantial amount of potato, carrot and meatloaf on his fork: it was all about the art of mixing flavors. He eyed his small creation dubiously before sprinkling a little pepper on it. Perfect, he thought as he finally put in his mouth and then proceeded to pepper all his food. Except for the desserts of course.

“Mom was sick again. She asked me to stay for a bit,” Jim lied smoothly. He could have whined, told him how bad it had been, how bad it always was, but what would that achieve. His best friend didn’t know anything about his home. He didn’t need to. All Bones knew was that Jim was raised by a single mom with a weak immune system, a lie that Jim often wished was true.

“God. At least she let you leave. She needs to go to a fucking doctor already. Her shit made you repeat a year of high school for fuck’s sake. You’d think she’d realize what she was doing to you already,” Bones growled (word choice?) as he shuffled his corn around his plate, clearly trying to avoid the task of actually eating the vegetable.

Jim shrugged. Bones had graduated on time and had already been at college for a year. Jim didn’t need to feel jealous, but his senior year had been hard without Bones to make trouble together. “Well, I’m here now aren’t I?”

Bones smiled and clapped a hand on Jim’s shoulder to give it a friendly squeeze. “Yeah. You are. And I’m sure as hell happy about that.”

Spock suddenly reappeared across the table with a plastic container of salad and a bowl of fruit causing Bones to look at the new arrival with a mixture of confusion and the typical Bones disdain for anything new. “Who’s this clown?”

Jim smirked. “This is my roommate, Bones. Spock this is Bones.”

Bones raised his eyebrows, but, thankfully, did not comment on the name. “Jim’s the only one who calls me Bones,” he said with a eyeroll in Jim’s general direction before stretching across the table to shake Spock’s hand. “You can call me Leonard.”

“Leonard,” Spock replied politely with short nod that implied ‘it’s nice to meet you’ as he grasped Bones’ hand briefly.

 Bones looked at Jim sideways as they shook hands, his eyes are whirl of questions. Jim grinned and turned to Spock. “What’s with the rabbit food?”

Seating himself primly, Spock popped open his salad and replied, “I have specific dietary preferences."

Bones snapped his fingers in realization. “That’s it! I knew something was off. You have Vulcan Syndrome!”

“Affirmative.” His voice was slightly defensive, but his face showed only serenity.

“Affirmative?” Jim cried incredulously, but neither of his tablemates were paying any attentions. Spock’s eyes were locked on Bones who had already begun replying, clearly excited. “You’ve gotta be the only one alive! Holy shit.”

“There is a woman in China who is in her 68th year. Are you aware of the mutation?”

“Aware of it? I wrote my IB Genetics paper on it!

Jim turned to Bones. “You are such a fanboy Bones. Don’t do anything creepy. Like ask for a blood sample. I’m not gonna let you use my roommate as a guinea pig”

“What about a urine sample? Is that okay?” Bones replied with no small amount of sass.

“If I may interrupt what I assume to be an exchange of humor between friends, I would like to ask Leonard a question.”

Jim continued to stuff his mouth, but wasn’t afraid to speak around his food. “C’mon Spock. What’d I say about classroom manners.”

“My apologies,” Spock said to him before turning his attention back to Leonard. “Jim has informed me that he has known you since childhood. Did you also come from Iowa? I do not believe your speech pattern aligns with those who hail from the Midwest.”

Leonard crooked a smile. “You got a way of talkin kid,” he said with a laugh.

“I have been informed of that in a variety of colorful ways.”

“Well, you’re right. Atlanta, born and raised. My parents got divorced and my mom dragged me out to Iowa just before seventh grade. Jim and I played soccer together until my two left feet got me cut from the team.”

“Aww, you weren’t that bad Bones baby,” Jim cooed before starting on his pudding.

 “Says the only sophomore ever to make team captain,” Bones scoffed.

“You must be a gifted player, Jim,” Spock commented as he bit into a large piece of tomato. Jim didn’t think there was a spot of dressing on the entire salad. Who ate their salad without dressing?  Jim felt his ears grow warm and he focused on trying to scrape the remnants of pudding from his dessert plate before starting on his pie. Mmm. Blueberry.

“I’m decent.”

“Decent!” Bones harrumphed. “Jim was the best player on the whole damn team. He’s _here_ on a soccer scholarship.”

The warmth was quickly spreading from Jim’s ears to his cheeks. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“I too am here on a scholarship.”

Jim nearly spit out his bite of pie. “You play _soccer?”_

He tried to imagine the skinny, pale boy outside. Jim could practically see his hair flapping awkwardly as he ran after the ball making his ears look even larger and more alien.

“I’m sorry. I misspoke. While my athletic abilities are above average, I prefer intellectual pursuits. My scholarship is purely academic.”

“Ah,” Jim replied lamely, slightly disappointed to be deprived of seeing Spock play sports.

“And you are a year above us?” Spock asked Bones.

“Yep, Bio major, pre-med. It’s one hell of a time suck, but it’s worth it. How ‘bout you?” Bones pushed his plate away and leaned back while sipping on his iced tea.

“My interests lie primarily in computer science and technology, but I intend to pursue physics as well.”

Bones raised his eyebrows. Jim pocketed the cookie he no longer had room to eat.

“That’s quite an undertaking. I don’t know any Physics double majors.”

“My abilities in the field of computer science have been assessed and I have been placed in an upper division course. This allows me to explore a variety of subjects outside of my intended career path.”

“Well, don’t get too big for your britches, Spock. Courses here are hard. We aren’t a highly ranked school for nothing.”

Spock merely arched an eyebrow in reply.

“Jeez, I’m stuffed,” Jim announced with a groan. “Where do we put our plates?”

“There’s a dish rack around the corner by the kitchen.  Want me to take your plate?”

“Nah. I got it. We can’t leave Spock here by himself though,” Jim insisted.

“I assure you I am capable of finishing my meal without your company. I am sure you would like some time to reacquaint yourself with your friend.”

“All right.” Jim shrugged. Can’t win em all, he thought.  “I’ll be back in the room in an hour or so.”

He stood and stacked his plates. “Dammit,” he exclaimed in realization.

“What is it?” Bones asked as he followed suit with his plates.

“It’s nothing. It’s just that I forgot to buy bedsheets or blankets or anything really. I meant to get here earlier so I could go shopping.” Jim shook his head. “Eh, one night of bare mattress never hurt anyone.”

“Don’t say that, you don’t know what’s happened on that mattress,” Bones said darkly as they walked away from the table side by side. 

\--

The minute they were out of the mess Bones dragged Jim into the common area they had passed through to get there. He pulledhim into a hard hug and after releasing him settled into a plushy looking chair. Jim reclined in the one across from bones, legs stretched out in front of him and hands behind his head.  He yawned.

“Man I missed you. Which dorm did you get saddled with?” Bones asked as he cracked his knuckles absentmindedly.

“Enterprise,” Jim responded, not really paying attention since a rather leggy blonde had just walked through the doors and he was quite busy watching the way her ass moved in her skin tight yoga pants.

“That’s some slick digs, newest frosh dorm- Jim, I’m over here you moron.”

Jim gave Bones the shit-eating grin that he knew drove his friend wild.

Bones rolled his eyes.

“What?” Jim asked, throwing his hands out nonchalantly. “I gotta check out the new market.”

“Dammit Jim. They’re not pieces of meat.”

“We’re all pieces of meat, Bones.”

Bones scowled. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jim said as he sat up a little straighter, feeling inexplicably overexcited, he expelled his energy by tapping his fingers rhythmically against the armrest of his chair. “So how’s life been?”

“Stressful as hell. They don’t tell you how hard getting into med school’ll be until you’re already on the track.”

“You wouldn’t be happy anywhere else,” Jim replied.

“How do you know?”

Jim snorted. “Let me rephrase. You aren’t happy anywhere, why would you be happier here?”

Bones shook his head and chuckled. He took a breath as if to speak, but something shifted in his expression and he remained silent. Jim looked around him and took in the consistency of high windows and metal-worked beams. This common area also had a fireplace and a plethora of artfully mismatched seating. Jim didn’t really understand what effect they were going for when they designed the place, but he knew he felt comfortable; that was really all that mattered. He sighed, full and content for the first time in days and shifted his gaze back to his friend who seemed lost in thought. “Penny for your thoughts,” Jim asked.

Bones leaned back into the chair with a heavy sigh. “I was just thinking about your roommate.”

Unable to resist the opportunity, Jim said, “Well, I don’t know if he swings that way but I can certainly put in a good word for you.”

Bones ignored him. “When does practice start?”

“Two weeks,” Jim said, excited about the prospect of being back on the field.

His friend grinned. “Dry season?”

Jim laughed. “What Coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“That’s the Jim Kirk I know. Want to raise hell on Friday?”

“Always.”Jim smiled and leaned his head back into the chair.  It was nice to be back with Bones.  “I think I’m gonna go check out campus before it gets dark. Want to come?”

“Nah, I gotta go clean my apartment before my roommate comes back and kills me for trashing the place. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I’ve got a meeting with my adviser to do scheduling and stuff and then I have to actually buy shit to live on. Dinner maybe?”

“Fine by me.”

They left the cafeteria commons in opposite directions and Jim wandered aimlessly into the dusk. The cool air was refreshing and it wasn’t long before Jim found what he was looking for. He stepped out onto the soccer field with a grin and quickly stripped off his shoes. The feel of the grass beneath his feet was heavenly. He gripped the ground with his feet, reveling in slightly soft earth. It felt like ages since he’d been on the field and he missed the smell of carefully cut grass that mingled with some smell unique to soccer fields. Looking down at his toes as they curled around the blades of grass, Jim’s heart thumped a little harder, the pavlovian adrenaline response kicking in on the field. He laid down on the ground and stared up at the streaks of clouds in the gray-orange dusky sky.

San Francisco didn’t smell like Iowa. His home town was small and free of polluted air, but the fields in between farms were peppered with pungent crops and chicken houses. He wouldn’t miss the smell of chicken house on a hot day. The memory of it alone nearly brought tears to his eyes. He breathed deeply as he closed his eyes. Jim wasn’t a huge believer in the metaphysical, but sometimes, when he was alone, he imagined he could feel the world moving around him, and, as if he could feel himself growing roots, he would anchor himself in the moment. He was in a new place; he was leaving his past behind. This could be his home now. This field would be his home and if he could plant himself and grow anew he would. As it was, he let the cool ground comfort his body, and the grass tickle his feet. That was more than enough to bring him happiness.

Jim had no idea how long he lay there, and when he opened his eyes the first stars had begun to twinkle on the horizon. With a sigh, he stood up and rubbed his eyes. Shit he was tired, and he had a sticky plastic covered  mattress to go back to. He weighed the pros and cons of sleeping on the floor as he slipped his shoes on and headed back to the dorm.

By the time he got to his car the moon had risen and he felt the temptation to go on a night drive, but he was exhausted so he swallowed the urge and gathered some more of his belongings to bring to his room. His belongings added up to a suitcase, a walmart bag and a pillow, making him realize that he desperately needed to haul his ass to the nearest store to buy all the things he needed to make a home here.

The common room was crowded with freshman trying to make friends so Jim stared determinedly at the floor, avoiding all human contact. He just wanted to sleep for god’s sake. He could play nice tomorrow.

The door to his room was locked and he cursed while digging out his keys. The room was dark when he walked in so he did his best to be quiet as he set his stuff down at the edge of the bed. Then he noticed his roommate’s bed was empty and sighed, a little relieved. He flicked on the overhead lights and noticed a neatly folded pile of sheets on his bed. On top of them was a sheet of paper.

_I am currently in the library. I will return at 1:00 am._

_As I am not in need of these bed sheets, this pillow, or this blanket, you are welcome to use them until you are in possession of your own._

_S_

Jim smiled at the note and took a pen from Spock’s desk to scrawl, _Thanks roomie_  under Spock’s writing and left the pen and the note on Spock’s desk. Jim picked up the pillow from his bed and placed it on Spock’s, after all he had his own and didn’t want to dirty up Spock’s.  Jim swiftly made the bed with the unremarkable dark blue sheets, placing the dull gray quilt on top. He felt exposed stitching on the corner and flipped it over and saw Made with Love by Amanda for Spock sewed into the fabric.

“Wow,” Jim said outloud. “I guess his family really does call him Spock.”

He brushed his teeth quickly and stripped off his pants, folding them and placing them on the chair by his desk before climbing into his bed.

Jim fell asleep with the light still on.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is getting away from me so i may increase the chapter length or the number of chapters


	3. Chapter 3

While Spock was in the shower the next morning, Jim’s curiosity got the better of him and he pulled out his laptop (8 years old and a fucking _dinosaur)_ and started research.

When he typed Vulcan into google the first hit was about the planet outside the solar system and Jim sighed as he added “syndrome” to the search.

He clicked open the Wikipedia article and began to read.

_Vulcan syndrome, first discovered in 1855, is the result of a mutated gene and affects only 1 in 500,000,000 newborns. Due to the difficulties of birth, Vulcan children have a high infant mortality rate. There are only two living people affected by Vulcan syndrome._

_Characteristics_

_Delayed development_

_Manifesting in various symptoms associated with autism, Vulcan Syndrome can cause children to mature at a slower rate. Affected children do not acquire language and communication skills at a standard rate and often reach puberty years after unaffected counterparts._

Well, that explained a lot of Spock’s more unusual tics.

_Higher IQ_

_While research is limited, nearly all people who have been diagnosed with Vulcan syndrome have increased intelligence in all tested areas._

_Facial and cranial deformities_

_One of the telltale signs of Vulcan syndrome is deformity of the face. Increased skull size causes skin and cartilage anomalies in those affected._

Jim winced at the implication. Spock got off lucky with his slightly pointed ears.

_Increased immune systems_

_People affected by Vulcan syndrome have increased lifespans that some researchers believe is due to a stronger immune system._

_Other_

_In four out of five observed children with Vulcan syndrome, the mother of the infant died in childbirth._

Jim read the webpage quickly and wondered at the last piece of information. Hadn’t Spock mentioned his mother? Maybe she was a one in five.

When Spock appeared in the bathroom door, clothed but hair damp from the shower, Jim exited the browser and shut his laptop lid.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your sheets, man.” Jim said as he got up to grab his stuff before taking his turn in the shower.

“Thanks are unnecessary. I do not need two sets of sheets.”

Jim laughed a bit and replied, “Yeah well, I’m thanking you anyway. I’ve got to meet with my advisor in an hour, but I was planning to drive into town afterward. Want to come with?”

“I do not currently have other plans,” Spock announced as he gracefully took a seat at his desk.

“That a yes then?” Jim asked with a smirk.

“Affirmative,” Spock said, not turning around.

“You are one weird guy,” Jim murmured before going into the bathroom.

After meeting with his course adviser (a 30-year-old with glasses and a unibrow), Jim was successfully signed up for a full course load. Completely unsure of where he wanted to go in life, he just signed up to get his pre-reqs out of the way:  computer science, 19th century lit and calculus.

He had a list of books he needed to buy and he was excited. Jim hadn’t been actually excited for school in years. When he was young, he had loved learning especially math and science, but when his mom’s second marriage fell apart things got bad and the teachers at the middle school wouldn’t give him a break. They didn’t understand that sometimes he couldn’t come to school because his mom was in the hospital or at home needing to be watched. They blamed Jim and at some point he let them think he was a delinquent and hell, he set out to prove it was true. He would pick fights and skip class. Begrudgingly, the teachers had given him good grades because despite everything he had been smart.

Jim held the print out of his schedule in his hand as he strode across campus, back to his room. It was a little after noon and, having not eaten breakfast, he was starved.

He entered his room without knocking and wasn’t surprised to see Spock sitting in that odd cross-legged way on his bed.

“Hey, man.” Jim said casually, tossing the paper onto his desk and fishing his keys out of the pocket of his pants from the night before. He stuffed them in his pocket and then pulled out his wallet. His adviser had given him a permanent id card which he could use in lieu of the temporary one he had received at check in. He put it in among his debit card and driver’s license.

Spock looked up at him coolly, his thumb pressed into the spine of the book he was reading.

“I’m gonna go get some food from the mess then I was planning on heading into town. Still want to come?”

“Yes.”

“Great,” Jim said with a grin before heading to the door. “Do you want anything from the mess?”

“I am not hungry.”

Jim smiled in response but said nothing before hurrying off to eat something, anything.

The lunch menu at the mess was better than their dinner offerings since it was mostly a “make your own sandwich” sort of affair. Not being too picky about food, Jim piled a little of everything onto the two slices of wheat bread, turkey, ham, pastrami, lettuce, pickles, peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers. All in all he was excited about putting the thing in his mouth.

A satisfied Jim Kirk left the cafeteria to drag his roommate out shopping.

\--

As Jim watched Spock fold himself into his jeep he couldn’t help but feel a sense of incongruity. He looked almost sickly in the bright California sunshine, but Jim knew that not everyone had his own healthy glow and not everyone preferred the outdoors.

Jim turned the key in his ignition and glanced at Spock, “So where’s the nearest Walmart?”

“Approximately two miles east,” Spock replied.

Jim snorted as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Just tell me where to turn, Spock.”

It was quiet except for Spock’s prompt directions. Jim followed mindlessly, thankful for the company and the short drive. In the silence Jim realized something strange about the guy next to him, he was absolutely different than anyone else he had ever met and something in that made Jim want to poke and prod and discover. Jim _wanted_  to be friends with the kid, get under his skin, and maybe it was unhealthy, but Jim had always had an obsessive need to pry things apart, see how they worked and fit them back together again. With Bones, it had been watching him fall apart in that awful relationship back in tenth grade. Jim made his way in life by testing people and Spock sat there in the passenger seat, his mere existence an advertisement for Jim to test his limits.

 _Soon_ , Jim thought to himself as he stopped in the parking lot.

From out of nowhere, Spock pulled a beanie and slipped it over his head, covering his too big slightly pointed ears. Jim bit his lip at the sight. “Sup, homie.”

Spock turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Sup indeed.”

Jim laughed until his stomach hurt and Spock just stared. It seemed to Jim that the corners of his mouth had turned up slightly. Damn, but Jim wanted to break that stony façade.

They went immediately to the bedding section and Jim pondered the pros of stripes over solid colors. He looked at his two options, slate grey and black stripes or solid dusky blue, and pursed his lips. He looked at Spock. “What do you think?”

Spock turned his attention to the packages in his hands and offered his opinion, “The striped set will complement the colors I have already chosen better than the blue set, but it is fully your decision.”

“Stripes it is then,” Kirk replied, tossing the package into his cart. “What did you need to come for?”

“I wished to purchase a chess set. I thought that the university would—“

Jim interrupted him as they walked towards the pillows. “You play chess?”

“It is a stimulating pass time,” Spock said, watching Kirk pull two pillows from the shelf.

“Dude, chess is the fucking best! I always tried to get Bones to play me but he was absolute shit at it. We should play some time!” Jim knew he was too excited, but he couldn’t help it; it had been ages since he had played chess with anyone, let alone someone who might actually be good.

Spock nodded slowly, clearly a little taken aback by his vehement reaction. “I would welcome the experience.”

“Well, I need to get shampoo and school stuff so just text me when you’re done,” Jim said as he started to wheel the cart away.

“I do not have your cell phone number, Jim.”

“Really, shoulda given it to you ages ago. What was I thinking?” Jim teased.

They exchanged numbers quickly and Jim found himself picking out school supplies alone. He grabbed a few notebooks, pencils, pens and folders. He didn’t care about quality or style it was about thrift and function. Jim wandered through the clothing section for new underwear and white undershirts.

Spock met up with him in the shampoo aisle, toting an inexpensive looking chess set while Jim was mentally tallying his savings and checking account against what he needed to buy. He’d worked his ass off for ages so he could be financially independent, but buying a whole new life was expensive. He’d definitely need the money the school was giving him.

Spock followed him through the toiletry aisles stoically, clutching the chess set to his chest and watching his every move like a hawk.

“Sheets, shampoo, soap, school stuff and…what else?” Jim murmured absentmindedly as he grabbed a pack of razors and shaving cream. Then realization dawned. “Right! Snacks! Let’s go get some snacks.”

“I do not see why you need to purchase additional food when the freshman meal plan is more than sufficient,” Spock said from a few feet behind him as Jim swung the cart around.

Jim shrugged. “So? I want snacks. I like snacks.”

Spock didn’t reply to that so Jim counted it as a small win. He managed to find the snack aisle with minimal effort and grabbed a few boxes of crackers and cookies before going to the fresh produce to buy a bag of apples. He stood before the mounds of fruit and pondered, granny smith or fuji?

“I, too, am fond of apples,” Spock said from what was becoming his usual distance of one yard away from all other things and people.

Jim grinned. “Really? Which do you prefer? Granny smith or fuji?”

“Granny smith,” Spock answered, shifting the chess set in his arms.

“Granny smith it is then,” Jim said while grabbing and unceremoniously dumping the bag into his cart.

“Why does my preference matter?”

“You’re gonna help me eat them,” Jim announced before heading off in the direction of the check out.

\--

They returned to campus in silence that was neither uncomfortable nor friendly. Jim didn’t know exactly what to make of it, but Spock helped him tote his bags into the dorm so he couldn’t have bungled things too much.

Spock resumed his usual cross-legged pose on his own bed, while Jim divested his of its borrowed linens. He folded them as best he could and placed them on Spock’s desk. “Do you want me to wash them?”

“That would be unnecessary,” Spock replied, not looking up from his book.

“What are you reading?” Jim asked amicably as he opened up his new sheets. He tucked the far corner of his fitted sheet first and moved on to the remaining three with quiet determination.

“Crime and Punishment,” Spock answered in a not-exactly-unfriendly tone. Jim took that as permission to continue.

“Wow. Heavy stuff. I could never get into Dostoyevsky. I think something’s lost in translation.” He managed to get the final corner tucked without disturbing the rest. He grinned at the small victory.

“Perhaps. I would not know.”

“Wait, are you reading it in the original Russian?” Jim asked, whirling around and momentarily forgetting his end goal of making his bed.

“Yes.”

“You can read Russian?”

“Yes,” Spock said as if that should be obvious. “I am fluent in Spanish, Chinese, and Russian.”

“Holy shit. Were you homeschooled or something?”

Spock blushed which made his pale skin paler and emphasized his high cheekbones. “For most of my middle school and high school years.”

“Wow. Why?”

“Children can be cruel,” Spock answered quietly. Jim didn’t like the implications of that answer and he sat on his bed with a frown.

“You were homeschooled because you were bullied?”

“In part. Additionally, my…condition lent itself to a propensity for learning most students lacked.”

Jim laughed. “So you were too smart for everybody is what you’re saying.”

Spock didn’t answer, so Jim took it as a yes. He stood and returned his focus to making his bed. “Well, damn. You’re gonna have to teach me a little Russian sometime,” he murmured off-handedly.

“Time permitting, I would be amenable to that.”

“Awesome,” Jim said. And it was. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: brief homophobic language

The loud beeping of the alarm forced Jim awake and he rolled over with a groan. Barely settled in and classes were already starting. His first class wasn’t until noon and he was thankful for the 10 am start, but still, he felt exhausted. His travelling must have caught up with him. He slapped his alarm off, accidentally knocking to the floor and his groans took a frustrated turn.

“Fuck me,” Jim mumbled as he swung himself out of his bed and replaced the alarm clock on the desk next to his bed.  He glanced over at Spock’s bed and found it empty. Wow, that kid could move silently; Jim hadn’t heard a thing all night and he wasn’t exactly a heavy sleeper. He couldn’t afford it back home since his mom could stumble in at any hour in any state. Grimacing at the thought, he ran a hand through his sleep tangled hair and sighed. He had calculus first and he wasn’t exactly sure he was up to facing integrals. Oh well, he thought as he peeled off his under shirt, tossing it into the corner and slipping into the bathroom.

His shower was perfunctory at best, but he at least felt alive when he climbed out of the old shower/tub combo, his skin smarting from the blistering temperature, and his too-long, wet hair dripping into his eyes. He smiled to himself. He felt free.

\--

Crossing the small campus took less than seven minutes and he arrived early even after stopping by the commissary for an apple and a water bottle.  Dropping his bookbag behind his desk and taking a generous bite of his apple, he settled into the back of the classroom and watched the parade of students as they shuffled in, each in a varying state of wakefulness despite the later hour.  

After he finished his apple, he looked around, took careful aim and tossed it into the trashcan beside the desk in the front of the room. It landed with a resounding clang and a few of his fellow students whistled.  The older-looking boy two seats over clapped enthusiastically. “Look at you, hotshot.”

“I prefer to be called Jim,” Jim replied, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back it his seat, not entirely sure the other boy wasn’t mocking him.

“I’m Gary. Gary Mitchell,” the other boy said with no small amount of verve, reaching over the desk separating them to shake his hand. Jim raised an eyebrow, but shook it nonetheless.  “Where you from, Jim?”

“Iowa,” he answered. He tapped his pencil mindlessly against the edge of his desk. Why was the professor late? “You?”

“I’m from San Fran. You’ve got some sick hand-eye coordination. You play basketball?”

Jim shook his head, stopping the motion of his hand. “Nah. Soccer.”

“You’re shitting me,”  Mitchell said with a loud laugh.

“No?” Jim said, lowering his voice as the teacher walked in.

“I’m captain of the soccer team! Glad to have you aboard!”

Jim smiled and laughed quietly, trying to get the other guy to stop talking. Thankfully, the professor announced her presence and gave him an excuse to focus his attention forward.

\--

Class was over quickly after the professor handed out a syllabus and did a quick review. Jim realized belatedly that he might have signed on for a too-easy class since he knew over half of what was supposed to be covered. Oh well, it’d be an easy A, he thought as he packed up his things. Mitchell waited for him by the door and Jim swallowed a sigh before joining him.

“So you’re a frosh,” Mitchell asked lightheartedly, matching his stride.

“Yeah. Just came into to town on Saturday. Are you an upperclassman?”

“Senior. Finally getting around to my math credit,” he replied, making a gesture back to the building they had left. “Where are you headed next?”

“Peterson Hall. I’ve got 19th century lit with…um… Jenkins? Yeah. Jenkins, I think.”

“I’d say you should take lit with Garber, he’s not as faggy as Jenkins. But I guess, too little, too late, huh?” Mitchell laughed again and Jim tried not to scowl at his word choice. He wasn’t given the opportunity to give it much thought before Mitchell clapped him on the back and said, “Well, I’m headed in the opposite direction, but I’ll see you on the field tonight.”

“6:30 right?” Jim asked, not really caring for an answer.

“Yep.”

“See you then,” Jim said with a wave as he increased his pace toward his destination. Mitchell didn’t reply.

\--                  

Jim went to the locker room early and changed into his gear, feeling the familiar pool of excitement in his joints as he shoved his feet into his cleats. He folded up his clothes and placed them into his backpack while a few other people made their appearances in the locker room.

He was on the field for less than two minutes before Mitchell found him going through his pre-practice stretching routine.

“Here early,” Mitchel noted, joining him at his stretches. “I like your style, Jim.”

“Old habits,” Jim said, his words muffled as he fold himself in half to touch his toes.

A sudden slap on his ass made him jump to attention. He whirled only to be greeted by a grinning Japanese boy. “Oh my god. Sulu?”

“The one and only,” Sulu replied, before Jim clapped him on the back, laughing.

Mitchell stood, scowling slightly. “How do you guys know each other?”

“Sulu came on the recruiting trip with Coach Pike. I, uh…showed him the fun side of Iowa.”

“Yeah you did! I didn’t know high schoolers even did keg stands before Kirk here,” Sulu said, elbowing Jim.

Mitchell opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a loud whoop from behind them. “Woowee! Is that our new golden boy? Anybody gonna introduce me?”

Jim turned to see a stocky looking redhead with his hands on his hips. “I’m Jim. Jim Kirk,” he said with a cursory wave of his hand.

“Montgomery Scott, goalie,” the boy said, his accent thickening slightly as he crossed the field to shake Jim’s hand.

“We call him Scotty,” Sulu said conspiratorially.

“A Scotsman named Scotty? Are you _from_ Scotland?” Jim asked, a little incredulous.

“Aye! Born and raised. ‘Cept the high school part. Been in the states since the ninth grade,” Scotty explained, pumping his hand enthusiastically.

“If you’re all done with the pleasantries, want to get started?”  Pike said, startling them all to attention.

Mitchell answered for the group. “Yes, sir.”

“I think we’ll start with double sprints.”

Both Scotty and several other players groaned.

“On my mark.”

The players hustled into a line and Jim followed, looking around and feeling a bit confused.

“Go.”

-

That night found Jim stumbling into his room at half past ten, covered in dirt and bruises, and ready to pass out.  Thankfully, Spock was still up, sitting in his usual lotus position on his bed, book open, so Jim didn’t have to make any attempt to be quiet. He kicked off his cleats and grimaced at the chunk of dirt that shook free. He’d have to clean the things everyday if it was going to be like this. He chucked his backpack on the foot of his bed and stripped off his shirt and shorts, leaving only his gray compression shorts underneath. Using the inside of the dirty shirt, he scrubbed the sweat from his face before tossing the offensive items into the growing pool at the foot of his bed. He’d need to get a hamper. God, college was getting expensive.

He turned around and found Spock watching him, his book forgotten in his hands. Jim grinned at him and grabbed a towel. “I’ll make sure to change in the locker room next time. Won’t get your side of the room dirty or anything.”

Jim could see Spock’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “It is of...no consequence.”

“Whatever dude. I’m gross. I’m gonna shower and then do you want to hit that chess set?”

“Why would I strike an inanimate object?” Spock asked, looking genuinely abashed. Jim took a moment to understand what Spock was referring to, but when he did, he felt a laugh swell inside him.

Chuckling, he said, “Wow, I never thought of it that way. I meant to say: do you want to play chess after I shower, Spock?”

“It could prove intellectually stimulating.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jim said decidedly as he turned to the bathroom.  He didn’t see the way Spock’s eyes traced the line of his back.

After a quick scrub, Jim exited the bathroom, towel wrapped low around his hips, to dig around in his suitcase for a clean pair of underwear and pajama bottoms. No stranger to changing in front of other guys, he removed the towel and changed quickly before slinging the towel around his neck. “Shit, Spock,” Jim said without looking up from his suitcase, “I haven’t even unpacked. Short postponement ok?”

Spock was still sitting, immobile, and oddly flushed, on his bed. “In-indeed. I will set up the board.”

“Great. This’ll only take me like five minutes,” Jim said as he gathered some of his t-shirts and crossed to the dresser.

It took him three, reminding Jim of how few belongings he truly had. With a sigh, he crossed to the bathroom and hung his towel up to dry before coming back into the room where Spock had migrated from his bed to the floor, still maintaining his lotus position, but now with a chess board in front of him.

Noting that Spock had given him white, Jim settled into a similar position across from his roommate. He made a move. “So,” he said, hand poised on a pawn, “how was your first day of classes?”

“Inconsequential,” Spock said simply as he made an answering move.

“Jeez, nothing interesting happened? Did you meet anybody cool?” Jim asked, bouncing a little, surprised at his sudden bout of energy. When he’d come back to the room, he’d been dead on his feet.

“One student commented that I resemble Satan and asked if I had cloven feet to go with my…how did she say it? Oh yes, devil ears.”

Jim paused halfway through his move and ended up cradling the bishop in his hand. “People actually say shit like that to you? Maybe she was joking around.”

“Unlikely based on the nature of her laughter following the comment.”

Jim frowned. “Well fuck them. You seem pretty cool. Besides, your ears aren’t even that pointy.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment behind your statement, I am fully aware that I do not ‘fit in.’ If you would finish your move, Jim,” Spock prompted when Jim continued to scowl at him while clutching a chess piece in his hand.

“Right,” Jim said lamely. His words were accompanied by a particularly loud growl from his stomach reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since…that apple at lunch. Spock’s right eyebrow rose to his hairline at the sound. “See. I told you I’d need snacks.”

Jim climbed to his feet, careful not to disturb the board between them. “Do you want anything?” he asked as he grabbed a pack of cheese crackers from the box on the dresser.

“Negative. I am not hungry at this time.”

“Do you always talk like a computer?” Jim asked casually as he chewed on a cracker and regarded Spock’s latest move.

“I find there is a certain efficacy inherent in my speech patterns. If others choose to be more lax then it is their prerogative.”

“Hmmm. I guess. I mean, most people probably don’t understand half the words you’re saying,” Jim said, moving his knight into play.

“You understand.”

Jim laughed. “Yeah, but I’m not most people.”

“As I am learning,” Spock replied matter-of-factly.

Spock may have won that match, but it was a near thing. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i havent had time to proofread so this chapter might have more errors than the others  
> sorry about that  
> but thanks for reading!

Jim didn’t even try to stifle his yawn as he walked into the computer science seminar room; he’d stayed up until nearly 2 am playing chess with Spock and while that usually wouldn’t have been a problem, his body was tired from practice. Jim was having regretful flashbacks to days spent on the couch and nights spent drinking when he should have been keeping up with his high school training regimen. He rolled his shoulders back and surveyed the room. Immediately, he noticed the strikingly beautiful girl sitting in the front row. She had a notebook open to a blank page in front of her as she absentmindedly chewed on the tip of her pen.  Jim grinned and slid into the seat next to her. “Hi. I’m Jim Kirk,” he said, crossing his arms on his desk.

The girl froze and her eyes slid to his. His grin grew brighter when beautiful chocolate eyes met his. Her hands dropped to her desk and she pursed her lips. “That routine’s not gonna work on me,” she said matter-of-factly before turning her attention back to the front.

“What routine?” Jim asked innocently, widening his eyes in a manner that always worked wonders on the more reticent women of his acquaintance.

She glanced at him again and then rolled her eyes. Jim liked the way her eyelashes fanned against her cocoa brown skin. “The charming bad-boy routine. Been there. Done that.”

“I know for a fact that you haven’t done this,” Jim replied immediately, suppressing a grimace at his own words.  The girl turned to face him and his grin turned apologetic. “Sorry. That was—I wasn’t thinking—“ but his explanations were interrupted by her sudden laughter.

“Oh my god. Do lines like that ever work?” she asked as she pressed a hand to her stomach, wheezing slightly.

Jim scowled. “You’d be surprised.”

She regarded him momentarily before bursting into another peal of laughter. When she finally got her breath back she said, “Uhura.”

“What?”

“It’s my name.”

“That’s a weird first name.”

“It’s my last name.”

“Oh.” Jim paused, weighing his options, but he decided not to press for her first name. He had a whole term sitting next to her after all. “It’s nice to meet you, Uhura.”

“Kirk,” she said with a nod and Jim grinned at the implication of her using his last name.  He really did love a challenge.

 

The next few days of classes were easy. Unfortunately, the difficulty of practice made up for it. Every day from six-thirty to ten, Jim was on the field, running, defending, getting pummeled by soccer balls, and trying his best to prove he deserved his place on the team.  Some of the sophomores were pissed that Jim came in as a starting midfielder, but there was nothing Jim could do about that. He was good at soccer and he wanted to play so he would.

He ended up stumbling into his dorm at eleven o’clock every night that week, forcing himself to shower in the locker room so he wouldn’t destroy their room on a regular basis, and despite his tiredness, he played chess with Spock after practice every time. He liked the way Spock would stare it him over the flimsy checkered cardboard, like Jim was an experiment in his own right, something Spock had to gauge and respond to or risk losing…something.  He liked the way Spock would smile at his jokes, a slight twitch of his lips or shake of his shoulders. He found himself looking forward to the not-quite-stilted conversations they would have while Jim angled for Spock’s king. By Friday, they were evenly matched. Spock had won three games and so had Jim. And after practice that night, Jim had other plans.

“Want to come with me to a party at Bones’s place?” Jim asked as he put on a slightly nicer shirt. When he finished wriggling his arms into place, he looked up at his roommate who was regarding him with a small frown.  “C’mon, Spock! It’ll be fun. There’ll be loads of people there.”

Jim grimaced as he realized that was probably the wrong way to sell this to Spock.  “Just come with me,” Jim said, not even attempting to keep the whine from his voice.

“If you please,” Spock said as he unfolded himself from the bed. On occasion Jim wondered how Spock’s overlong limbs didn’t get all tangled up when he moved. Spock pulled on the hem of his shirt to straighten it. “Should I change my attire as well?”

Jim eyed his slightly too long hair and definitely too-big striped sweater. The guy was a string-bean. Jim shrugged. “You look fine.”

“Fine has variable definitions,” Spock murmured as Jim replaced his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. Jim chose to ignore that little bit of sass by turning back to Spock with a megawatt grin.  “Just stick with me, it’ll be great.”

Spock blinked at him and Jim laughed. “C’mon. We’re walking. It’s only a few blocks away.”

Jim held the door open and looked expectantly at his roommate who shifted uncomfortably before crossing into the hallway.  

They walked side-by-side in silence, passing piles of torn down decorations. Jim harrumphed at the mess; apparently other people had started their Friday night early. The thud of a stereo at the far end of the adjacent hall was accompanied by a loud whooping noise as a small group of students flooded from the room into the hall. Jim caught Spock’s eye and smiled, but his roommate looked uneasy.  Their laughter increased as they approached and one of the guys crowed, “Looks like the freak’s going out too.  Can gremlins even get drunk?”

Jim scowled, noticing the way Spock’s shoulders hunched as he looked at the ground. They kept walking past the other students and Jim waited until they were outside to lay a hand on Spock’s shoulder. “Dude, don’t listen to those assholes.”

Spock jerked away from his touch and said nothing. Jim sighed and looked up at the sky, clear and star speckled. “Just say the word and I’ll beat ‘em up for you,” Jim said, sticking his hands in his pockets as they started walking through campus.

“I doubt your ability to fight five people at once, Jim,” Spock said blandly. Jim turned to him, feeling a little exasperated that he would have to explain that he was joking, and he saw Spock’s mouth twitch into a slight smile. Spock was _teasing_ him. It made Jim want to jump around and punch the air. Instead he just said, in his best Darth Vader impression, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

Spock’s expression turned contemplative. “That is my mother’s favorite film.”

“Well damn, your mom’s got pretty good taste then,” Jim said, as he noticed the way the back of Spock’s hair stuck up awkwardly, making his fingers itch to smooth it down.  That was weird.

“Yes. I believe the two of you would have many things in common.”

“Do _you_ like Star Wars?”

“It has some merit, but I prefer stories of a less fantastical nature.”

“So, like, what’s your favorite movie?” Jim asked.

Spock looked away and then forward once more. He mumbled something that Jim couldn’t quite catch.

“Wait, is it something embarrassing? Like a kid’s movie? Is it a Disney movie? Oh my God, it’s a Disney movie,” Jim said, stopping in his tracks and grinning. He reached out and punched Spock’s chest playfully. “Come onnnn. Just tell me.”

“The Fox and the Hound,” Spock said, looking at him defiantly. Jim’s eyebrows went up.  “I never liked Fox and the Hound. I was more of a Lion King fan myself.”

“I also enjoyed the Lion King.”

“It’s just so _good_. Before my mom--” Jim realized what he was saying and immediately stopped the flow of words. Woah, so not going there.  Spock looked at him curiously so Jim continued quickly. “How are _Disney_ movies less fantastical, dude? It’s like talking animals and spontaneous singing.”

“My judgment might be clouded by nostalgia.”

Jim laughed and continued walking. “Ain’t that the painful truth.”

They walked in silence and Jim became absorbed in the memories he didn’t want to share. He was young, probably five or six, and his mom would be getting ready for the night shift. Jim always begged to stay up with her and she would laugh and put on a movie for him. He remembered the lavender scent of her shampoo drifting in from the bathroom as she sang along to the songs playing on the TV.  He closed his eyes against the memory. He wanted to have a good night and dwelling on memories that made his stomach hurt wasn’t going to help.

\--

Music spilled out of all the windows and Jim grabbed Spock’s wrist to wind through the crowd. Some people stood awkwardly against the walls, some people were dancing in the dimmer open rooms in the front of the house, but Jim was headed for the kitchen, where he knew Bones would be manning the keg. Sure enough his friend was occupied by pumping beer into cups as they were thrust into his hands, one after another.

“Do you want a drink?” Jim asked, almost yelling to be heard of the din of the party.

“No, thank you.”

Jim gave him a thumbs up with the hand not wrapped around Spock’s wrist and the two of them pushed their way to Bones’s side.

Bones’s looked up and grinned when he saw Jim. “Want a beer, Jim?”

“Hell yeah!”  Bones grabbed a cup from the counter and filled it before pressing it into Jim’s hand. “Thanks man.”

Bones raised his eyebrows at Spock who shook his head. “Suit yourself,” Bones said, abandoning the keg to the masses. “Let’s go kick some ass at beer pong.”

Jim nodded enthusiastically and the two of them teamed up against Bones’s roommates. Halfway through the game Jim noticed Spock’s sudden absence from the side of the table. He looked at Bones, a cold spike of concern wrapping itself around his insides. “Where’d Spock go?”

Bones lifted his beer in the general direction of the kitchen. “Some girl came and got the goblin.”

“Don’t call him that, Bones,” Jim snapped.

Bones put his hands up. “I mean goblin in the best way possible.”

Jim put a hand to his forehead, pushing his hair up and back. “Sorry. He just doesn’t need another person being mean to him.”

“Well isn’t he lucky to have you to protect him,” Bones replied acerbically.

“It’s not like that!” Jim protested but Bones just looked at him and he deflated. “All right. It is kinda like that. But it’s not a bad thing. I like the guy. He’s…different.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Bones said, taking another drink from his cup. “Better go find him then. Make sure the poor girl doesn’t have any designs on his virtue.”

Jim snorted, but it took another thirty second before he set his cup down and trailed after Spock. He was in the kitchen, standing awkwardly by the table while the girl from Jim’s computer science class--Uhura?-- talked animatedly. Spock nodded at something she said as Jim approached the two. “Well, well, well, remember me?” Jim asked, leaning his elbow onto Spock’s shoulder and grinning at Uhura. Her hair was loose about her shoulders and she wore a miniskirt and tank top; Jim eyed her legs appreciatively.

She rolled her eyes, but Jim saw the way a smile played about her lips. “Kirk.”

“How do you know Spock?” Jim asked. Spock stared at him, an odd expression on his face, so Jim removed his elbow and stood up straight.

“I interned for his mom last summer.” She smiled at Spock warmly. “But I was just about to head out. Hold on--” She turned to the kitchen counter a grabbed a pen which she used to scrawl a series of numbers onto Spock’s forearm. “Text me sometime.”

Tossing the pen back on the counter, she sauntered from the room. Jim stared after her, dumfounded.  “Oh my god, Spock, you could totally get it!” Jim said, pointing an accusatory finger in Spock’s direction.

Spock looked down at his hand with a frown. “I am unsure of what I am trying to ‘get’.”

“You know…. Uhura. Get… Uhura,” Jim finished lamely.

Spock looked at the wall behind him as if it held the secrets of the universe. “I am not interested in Uhura that way.”

“What? Is she not your type?” Jim teased.

“No. She is not,” Spock said decisively, finally looking him in the eye.

Jim’s mouth suddenly felt very dry so he took a large gulp of the beer in his cup.  “Well if you’re not gonna try with her, you won’t mind if I do, right?”

Spock shrugged, a gesture that looked so awkward on his lanky frame that Jim laughed. Spock looked at him questioningly but the effect was ruined by a sudden splash of beer and the empty tap of a red solo cup as it hit Spock’s shoulder blade. Most of the beer hit Spock, but Jim still had to shake droplets from the arm nearest his friend. He turned towards the cackling laughter in the corner of the kitchen. “What the fuck?” Jim demanded.

The group of three affected an innocent look, but Jim knew it. He’d been on the other side before, but fuck them. Fuck that. He felt rage spread down and pool at the base of his spine, but a cool hand pressed against his forearm and he looked down at it, then back up at Spock. He looked sad, but he shook his head. “Jim. Do not.”

Jim took a deep breath before grabbing Spock’s arm and pulling him from the room. A voice behind him cut above the music, “Looks like the freak’s a faggot too.”

It was Spock’s turn to pull Jim away from the party, outside into the cool night air. Jim stumbled down the steps and looked back at the door. “Fuck you!” he screamed in the general direction of the people he wanted to punch.

“It’s fine,” Spock said. “Jim,” he said again when didn’t look at him.

“Fuck that. I hate that word.”

“What word?”

“Faggot.”

Spock sighed minutely. “There are worse things to be called.”

“Yeah, but it’s so ugly. And…ignorant!” Jim exclaimed turning to look at Spock, finally noticing the beer dripping from his hair and soaking his back. 

“I did not disagree,” Spock said, rolling his shoulders against the stickiness of the liquid on his shirt.

“Jesus, you’re soaked,” Jim said, resisting the urge to trace the outline on Spock’s back. God, he must be touch starved, he hadn’t felt so tactile in a while. Or maybe it was just the alcohol rearing its head.  He frowned. “Let’s get you home.”

Spock nodded and they walked quietly back to campus. Jim kept sneaking glances at Spock whose pale skins was accentuated by the street lamps as he looked at the ground, his shoulder once more rounded forward, like he was bracing against a blow.

“I’m really sorry, Spock,” Jim said, bumping his shoulder against Spock’s.

“Despite what happened, I find I do not regret the excursion.”

Jim smiled. “Good. I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update as of 1/4: due to horrible travelling experiences and broken down cars and term starting, i won't be updating on time. i'll have something up by friday. Sorry!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is unbeta-ed and slammed together pretty quickly so probably filled with errors

They had a game on Saturday so Jim really shouldn’t have expected Coach Pike to cancel practice on Thursday, but it was raining and not just sort of raining; it was coming down in buckets.

Jim’s first step onto the soggy field was greeted by a loud whooping followed by a swift tackle. “Oi! It’s gonna be a good day, isn’t it Jim?” Scotty said, grinning, rivulets of water running down from his auburn hair and mixing into dirty splotches on his uniform top as he rose to his knees.

Jim spluttered against the spray of mud on his face as he struggled into a sitting position and swiped a now soaked sleeve across his mouth. “Jesus, Scotty, warn a guy?”

“That’s the whole point,” Scotty declared before pushing at his chest again, but Jim held steady before launching himself back at Scotty. He managed to knock the older boy onto his back when a sharp whistle ruined Jim’s focus, allowing Scotty to escape. Jim looked up at a scowling Coach Pike and tried on his best smile.

“Starting early are we?” Coach asked, his scowl breaking slightly into an amused tilt of his lips.

“Wanted to get a head start,” Jim said, pushing himself to his feet.

“Is that so? Well, Kirk, I want you to be goalie today.”

“But sir!” Scotty said from behind him.

“Relax, I just want to see what the kid’s got. You’ll be shirts. He’ll be skins.”

Jim groaned, but resignedly peeled off his shirt as Pike called everyone to attention and had them count off.  He hadn’t goalied since junior year and he hated it. He could never seem to block the ball without falling on his ass. He was going to be one muddy motherfucker.

 

 

Jim held his dirty, wet t-shirt in his hand as he made his way through the halls of his dorm. In his rush to get home, he’d forgotten to shower. At least he wasn’t dripping anymore, but he had streaks of mud up and down his legs and splatters all down his chest. It was beginning to get crusty. He grimaced as he palmed open the door to his room, resigning himself to having to clean up the mud he just got all over the door. After a shower though.

The room was dark as he walked in. Spock wasn’t home again. Jim’s stomach dropped in disappointment. After their first week of easy camaraderie, Spock had taken to disappearing for long hours at night and when Jim asked, Spock had just raised one of his weird tilty eyebrows at him and said, “Library,” like Jim was the stupidest creature to ever walk the earth.

Jim kind of hated that.

Toeing off his muddy cleats, Jim cursed himself for rushing back to his dorm. He should have just changed in the locker room. Now he had to deal with all his dirt covered stuff and the inevitably judgmental looks Spock would give him when he saw his laundry-if Spock ever showed his face in the room again, that is. He tossed his damp shirt on top of his shoes and then shucked off his shorts and underpants before snagging a towel and crossing into the bathroom. Jim turned the shower onto the highest setting his skin could stand and then grabbed his clothes and chucked them into the tub where the water beat down on the already soaked fabric. Scowling and running a hand through his hair, Jim knelt down to work some of the dirt out of the clothes.  Resigned to let the water beat out the rest, Jim stepped under the spray with a sigh. He relished the heat and steam as he scrubbed away the remnants of practice. Humming noncommittally, he watched the way his skin turned pink under the combined assault of scalding water and scratchy washcloth. Idly, he wondered when Spock found time to shower. He must do it when Jim wasn’t in the room because Jim couldn’t remember the last time the water had been running when he hadn’t been underneath it. If he were honest with himself, Jim was worried that Spock was avoiding him in earnest. Turning around, Jim picked up his shirt to wring it out. When was the last time they had hung out? It had been dinner with Bones on Sunday after that disastrous attempt to bring Spock out to parties. Had Spock seemed upset or anything? That had been two weeks ago. What could Jim have done that could have warranted _two whole weeks_ of avoidance?

Jim tossed his now mostly wrung out shirt out of the shower and put his shorts under the spray. He thought back to that last dinner.  What had they talked about? Bones had made a few cracks about Spock, but he’d seemed to take it stride.  If Jim recalled correctly, Spock had given as good as he got. Yeah, because Jim remembered feeling proud of his roommate for his well-timed wisecracks at Bones’s expense. Jim smiled as he twisted the excess water from his shorts, tossing them out of the shower as well. The smile died quickly when he remembered Spock’s icy treatment of him after dinner.

“Want to study together tonight?” Jim had asked, brushing his shoulder against Spock’s as they crossed campus back to their dorm.

Spock had recoiled from the touch and said, “Since none of our classes coincide, I see no logical reason for us to work together as it will only increase our overall study time.”

“Sorry. I thought it might be fun.”

Spock hadn’t responded, but turned from Jim and practically ran in the direction of the library, leaving Jim dumbfounded and a little hurt. Like _what the fuck?_

The mud was mostly gone from his cleats, thin rivulets of brown water occasionally running from them to the drain. Jim sighed and held them under the spray as well. He’d have to clean the shower after this or risk pissing Spock off even more. Nobody wanted to open the shower and find questionable brown splatters everywhere.

After rinsing himself off one final time, Jim shut off the water and clambered out of the shower. He looked despondently down at the puddle of clothes on the floor before wrapping a towel around his waist, grabbing them and crossing back out into the room to drop them into his newly purchased hamper.  The room was still empty so Jim dried off quickly in front of the dresser and put on a pair of boxers; his skin still felt tingly from the shower so decided against putting on a shirt, rather wanting to enjoy the feeling of the air on his bare chest.

Jim dropped heavily onto his bed and took a few moments to remember whether or not he had anything due the following day that he hadn’t already done. He didn’t. As much as he missed having Spock around, he sure as hell got all his homework done early without the distraction of chess or conversations or late night walks with his roommate.  He was halfway through a text message to Spock before he realized what he was doing. He deleted his half-hearted attempt at an invitation before he did something stupid like send it. He noticed the little red notification in the upper corner of his screen that indicated he had a voicemail, without thinking he opened his mailbox and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Jimmy. It’s been a few weeks. I hope you’re settling in ok in…ummm…college. Where’s your school again? Anyway. The electric bill is due and I was hoping you could maybe send some money back home. Let me know. Love you, Jimmy.”

The sound of his mother’s voice made Jim’s insides roil and he growled as he slammed the end call button. He threw his phone against his pillow.

“Did you receive bad news?” Spock asked from the doorway in an oversized sweater and beanie that made him look even more awkward than usual. His appearance caused Jim’s anger to dissipate immediately and be replaced by something so closely resembling elation that it almost made him uncomfortable.

“Spock!” Jim cried, jumping off the bed and suddenly becoming awkwardly aware of his near-nakedness.

Spock stood in the doorway and his eyes flicked from Jim’s now-red face and the brown splotches on the door. He cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Why is there mud on the door?”

Jim bustled over to his roommate as he explained, “Sorry. I forgot to change before coming home from practice and I was pretty dirty. I meant to clean it up. I mean, I didn’t think you’d be home tonight and I just got out of the shower and was checking my voicemail so I didn’t really have time to--”

“Jim,” Spock said, interrupting him smoothly as he pressed past Jim into their room. “I’m not concerned about the dirt. Are _you_ all right?”

“Yeah. Um, just call from home, you know?”

“And calls from home are unpleasant?” Spock asked as he unshouldered his backpack onto his bed and pulled off his beanie, expertly ruffling the lines from his black hair.

Jim desperately wished he was wearing something with pockets. What do people even do with their hands? “I was, uh, pretty happy to get away from home so I was… I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid, but I was hoping to leave it behind forever. I guess it doesn’t really work that way.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spock asked, turning back to look at Jim with those stupidly big brown eyes. Jim had the sudden urge to jump out the window, or run into the hallway and away from everything. Instead, he sat back down on his bed with a small sigh.

“No. It’s fine. I’ve gotten pretty good at dealing with it. You been at the library all night?”

“Yes,” Spock replied as he pulled his blue knit sweater over his head, revealing a slim white undershirt that hugged tight to the thin lines of his body. He carefully folded the sweater and placed it atop his dresser before turning back to his backpack to remove a book and his laptop. He moved the backpack to the floor and his hands went to his the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning them deftly. Jim looked away.

“Did you get all your homework done?”

“Yes. It was a very effective use of my time. I presume soccer practice went well?” Spock asked as Jim focused on picking at the threads of his comforter.

“Do you want to come to the game on Saturday?” Jim blurted, regretting the words even as they left his mouth. Spock was avoiding him, why would he come to watch Jim play what Spock no doubt considered a frivolous pastime.

The silence stretched between them and Jim looked up to see Spock staring at him oddly. Their eyes met and Spock immediately went back to pulling down the comforter on his bed. “Will Leonard be in attendance?”

“Bones?” Jim asked, a little taken aback by the random question. “I don’t know. I haven’t asked him yet, but he used to come in high school so probably.”

“I see,” Spock said, his tone ambiguous. “I shall endeavor to attend.”

“Really?” Jim asked, unable to keep threads of excitement from his voice.

“Yes, Jim.”

Jim smiled. “Great. That’s great.”

Spock slid under the blankets of his bed and clicked on the lamp beside him before opening his book. Jim stared at him for a moment and then crossed to turn off the overhead light.

As Jim crawled into his own bed he risked another assessing look in Spock’s direction. Before he could stop himself, the words fell from his lips: “You know, I’ve missed you, Spock.”

Spock’s head snapped in his direction, his mouth opened and then closed again. “I--”

“You know what, nevermind. It’s stupid. I’m being stupid. You’re just always gone and I don’t get to see you—God, nevermind.”

Silence. Jim closed his eyes against the dim light and cursed himself and his stupid tendency to get attached to people. He should really learn his lesson any time now.

“I’ve also missed your company, Jim,” Spock said, so quiet Jim barely heard him over the low hum of the air conditioning unit. 

Jim let out a breath of relief and smiled.  Everything was going to be okay.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg im so sorry its been so long like life really hit be me with a shitbrick. im going to try my absolute best to keep updating regularly but im overloading this semester and i have papers coming up so idk. thanks so much for reading and your lovely comments, it keeps me writing! <3


	7. Chapter 7

Jim woke up on Saturday with the firm reverberations of a headache echoing at the back of his skull. With a cursory glance across the room, Jim ascertained his roommate was nowhere to be seen, as usual. Grunting, he swung his feet out of bed and clambered blearily toward the bathroom where he switched on the shower to blissful burning heat, stripped from his clothes, and climbed beneath the spray. Eschewing his usual cleaning routine, he merely rinsed himself before stepping out. If he was going to get dirty playing soccer, why bother getting super clean? He shrugged into some loose clothes before shouldering his athletic bag and jogging out the door.

Campus was pretty dead, which was kind of usual for a Saturday morning at noon, most kids recovering from the night before (or the week before) in their beds. Jim momentarily lamented the Friday night parties he had undoubtedly missed because while he didn’t care about obeying “dry season” per se, he would never drink the night before a game. That was just plain irresponsible.

Scotty practically barreled him over when Jim finally shouldered his way into the locker room. Slapping at his chest and shoulders Scotty cried, “You ready Jimbo?”

Trying to swat away Scotty’s hands, Jim squinted up his face against the playful blows. “God Scotty, did somebody sprinkle cocaine on your mini-wheats this morning?”

Immediately the hands were withdrawn and Scotty planted his hands on his hips in mock-offense. “How dare you, lad! You know I’m on the straight and narrow.”

Sulu appeared from behind one of the lines of lockers and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “What would your girlfriend think about your flirting with the pretty newbie?”

Jim blushed a little, but Scotty took the teasing in stride. “She would be proud of me for bagging an ass as fine as that,” he answered decidedly before playfully smacking said ass.

Jim tried very hard not to jump. He failed and the raucous laughter of both Scotty and Sulu followed him as he crossed to a space on the bench. Barely suppressing a grin, Jim shook his head. “You guys are dorks.”

“And how,” Mitchell said as he, too, appeared from around the corner of a locker. “Stop harassing Kirk,” he added in Scotty and Sulu’s direction.

“I don’t mind,” Jim replied as he peeled off his shirt. “Feels like home.”

Mitchell shrugged before changing the subject. “You ready for the game?”

Jim didn’t particularly like his supercilious tone so he just made a non-committal noise and continued to get into uniform.

Raising his voice, Mitchell continued, “Well I think we’ve got this one in the bag!”

His proclamation was met with cheers and shouts from various parts of the locker room.

Jim pulled out his phone and sent a text.

Jim>Spock

hope you can make it today. game starts at 12.

He tossed his phone back into his duffel and tried hard not to think about intelligent brown eyes or pointed ears as he was herded onto the field for warm-ups.

 

Playing a good game always cleared Jim’s head. Hell, just being on the field was enough for his thoughts to feel crisper, each one like a new page of a book as he dribbled the ball between his cleated feet. During the break, he found himself scanning the crowd. Bones, as he always had in high school, sat glumly at the top of the stands. When Jim caught his eye, he smirked a little and jerked his head at something lower in the bleachers. Jim’s gaze swept over the crowd and alighted on a pale, beanie-clad boy who was talking into the ear of the woman to his right. The woman was older than him and she laughed at something he said, patting his arm in friendly, mothering way and Jim wondered, who could that be? Probably family, maybe a professor. Jim put Spock out of his once more when Mitchell clapped firm hands on his shoulders and the game started back up.

 

After a rousing victory and celebration on the field, involving nearly being pantsed by Scotty, Jim wandered out, sweaty, a little muddy and grinning to meet Bones behind the stadium risers. He saw his friend talking to Spock and the older woman from earlier. Seeing Jim as he approached, Bones opened up their circle and declared, “How’s it feel to be the youngest and most valuable player?”

Jim grinned. “How’s it feel to best friends with said MVP?”

Bones rebuffed his attempt at a hug. “You’re filthy. We can have a celebratory canoodle later, sweetheart.”

Spock cleared his throat and Jim’s sassy retort died on his tongue as he turned to the other members of the group. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. He stuck his hand out and said to the woman he didn’t recognize, “I’m Jim, Spock’s roommate.”

She smiled at him warmly and took the proffered hand for a short shake. “Amanda. I’ve heard wonderful things about it you. Spock goes on and on--”

“Mother,” Spock said, tone laced with exasperation.

She laughed and Jim noticed for the first time that she was one of those women who, no matter what age they are, continued to be breathtakingly beautiful. “Well, all right, goes on and on as much as Spock is capable.”

Jim exchanged a look with a Bones, who just shrugged and said, “Well, it was a good game, Jim. Come to my place later ok? I’ve got a midterm due by five so I’m headed out.

“See you later, Bones.”

Bones gave him a cursory wave and left him alone with Spock and his mom. “Well, Jim, would you like to come to lunch with Spock and me?” Amanda asked, re-adjusting the purse on her shoulder. Jim looked at Spock who avoided meeting his eyes as two spots of color appeared high on his cheeks.

“I would love to, ma’am—“

“Amanda,” she pressed.

Jim smiled a little. “I would love to, Amanda, but, as you can definitely see, I’m a mess.”

“Spock and I will go pull the car around if you’d like to go rinse off,” she offered, seemingly undeterred.

“Well, um, ok. I guess that’s fine. I’ll be back in a flash,” Jim answered before trotting off to the locker room.

Before Jim knew it, he was in the passenger seat of a Land Rover making small talk with Spock’s mom who apparently was on the board of the college and used to teach computer programming.

“So, Jim, where are you from?” she asked as they pulled into an Olive Garden. Jim thought he might be in love with Spock’s mom. All you can eat breadsticks really won him over.

“Iowa,” he answered as he unclicked his seatbelt.

“Iowa?” she repeated incredulously. “That’s pretty far way to come for our little school.”

“I’ve got a soccer scholarship. Couldn’t exactly turn down a full ride,” Jim explained as he opened the door for Amanda and Spock, who trailed sullenly after her.

“I suppose not,” she said as she indicated three to the waiter. “And how are you liking California so far?”

“It’s pretty great,” Jim replied honestly before sliding into the booth the waiter indicated. Amanda slid in across from him, but Spock remained standing.

“Mother, I am going to bathroom to wash my hands.”

“All right, Spock. Hurry back,” she said with a fond smile for her son.

A small silence hung between them as Spock left them alone. “So I’ve been wondering,” Jim began, slightly tentative.

“Yes?”

“Where does the nickname come from?”

Amanda put down her menu slowly and Jim worried he had crossed some sort of line. “I don’t know if you know, but Spock is adopted.”

“Oh,” Jim replied. He supposed that made sense considering the death rate of mothers carrying Vulcan children.

“His birth mother named him Cole and I never felt quite right changing it.”

“I mean that makes sense,” Jim said, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“Yes. Well, it seemed very likely that Spock was going to go the route of other people with his condition. He didn’t speak until he was three and the first word he ever said was ‘Spock.’ To this day, I have no idea what he was trying to say.” She paused for a moment and smiled inwardly. “He called everything Spock. Me, the dog, food, cars, books. And I don’t know, he responded to Spock like he never had to Cole so I just started calling him Spock and it stuck.”

Spock appeared, walking back to the table. “It suits him, though. Doesn’t it?” She asked Jim, her eyes warm and tracking her sons movements.

Jim looked at his roommate as he approached the table and felt that annoyingly persistent twisting in his stomach. “Yeah, yeah it does.”

“I presume you haven’t embarrassed me fully, mother,” Spock said as he gracefully folded himself into the booth next to Amanda.

“Oh yes. You know me. Only embarrassing stories here. Would you like to see Spock’s baby pictures? I think I have some on my phone…” she trailed off as she dug in her pockets and took in Spock’s scowl. “I’m kidding, Spock. But, Jim, you should have seen his ears. They were the cutest.”

“I believe it,” Jim murmured before he even realized it. He hurriedly took a sip of his water.

Amanda frowned and looked at her son. “Spock, why are you still wearing that beanie?”

“I would prefer people not to stare. This is the most logical way to accomplish that goal,” Spock said stiffly as he opened his menu.

“Spock, you know how I feel about you hiding. Besides, you look like a hoodlum,” she said, attempting to snatch the beanie from Spock’s head. He leaned away from her fingers.

“It is very ‘disgruntled youth.’”  Jim said, toying with a breadstick now that the waiter had brought them.

“Fine,” Amanda said, leaning back in the booth.  “Do what you want. But remember, anybody who is put off by your ears is a twat.”

Jim choked on the bite of breadstick in his mouth. Amanda raised an eyebrow at him and suddenly the two people across from him looked like family. “ ‘S a good word,” he rasped as he sipped on his water.

 

 

Dinner went as well as could be expected and Jim found himself getting on with Spock’s mom just as well as he had got on with Spock before the weird cold war between them. She dropped the two of them off in front of the dorms and gave Spock a quick kiss on the cheek before winking at Jim, promising to check in on them as soon as possible.

The two of them walked slowly to the dorm and Jim was the first to speak. “So, your mom, huh?”

“Yes,” Spock replied, swiping them into the foyer.

“She’s pretty great,” Jim said, holding the door open for Spock once he was inside.

They lapsed into silence as they walked through the halls to their room. “Will you be meeting Leonard for your date this evening?” Spock asked suddenly when the door shut behind them.

Jim plopped onto his bed, shocked. “What?”

“Leonard asked you to meet him this evening. I presumed it was for another date, was I mistaken?”

“Bones?” Jim asked, incredulous. “Bones and I aren’t dating? Oh my god! No. Nooooo. I love Bones, but ew! He’s like a brother.”

Spock stood, dumbstruck, by their shared bathroom door.

A thought struck Jim. “Wait, is that why you’ve been avoiding hanging out with me?”

 “I did not wish for people to think—I was worried that—yes,” Spock said, not looking at him.

Jim rose from the bed and crossed to his roommate. Placing his hands on Spock’s arms, he said, “Even if Bones and I were dating that’s no reason for us not to hang out. I mean we’re both straight guys. Just like Bones and me. No one’s going to say anything.”

Something in Spock’s eyes shifted and he pulled away from Jim. “Jim, I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” Jim asked, resisting the urge to chase Spock with hands, to touch his friend, reassure and comfort. Or something.

“I am—for lack of a better phrase—homosexually inclined,” Spock said quietly.

Jim’s stomach dropped. “What?” he squeaked. Realizing he sounded like an ass, he cleared his throat and tried again. “No—I—I had no idea.”

Immediately, Spock swirled into action, pulling containers from under his raised bed and popping the lids. “I will, of course, ask for a transfer. There is no reason you should be stuck with a distasteful living situation,” Spock said, kneeling, frozen with his pale fingers clutching the top of a Tupperware container.

“Oh god, not this again.” Jim crossed to him and took the lid from his hands before securing it and pushing the container back into its previous position beneath Spock’s bed. “I don’t care. Be whatever you like Spock. I’m not gonna go squealing away because we’re different.”

Spock sat back on his heels and, not for the first time, Jim noticed how long his eyelashes were as they brushed down against his cheeks. He tilted his face up to meet Jim’s eyes and the vulnerability in his face made Jim’s heart hurt. “So, we are friends?” he asked earnestly.

“Of course, dummy,” Jim said, holding out his hand to help his friend up. As Spock’s long, slightly cooler fingers gripped his, Jim wondered why the declaration left him feeling slightly empty. Friends? That’s what they were? Right?

Spock shifted gracefully to his feet and something like a smile settled across his features. Jim realized how close they were standing and took a step back before rubbing his hands on the legs of his jeans. “Umm, want to come to Bones’s with me tonight?”

Spock looked wary. “Another party?”

“Probably? I don’t know actually. I think it might be more of a video games and beer sort of thing.”

“All right,” Spock said. “But I will not be drinking alcohol.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Jim said to himself, crossing to his bed to pull his cell from his duffel so he could text Bones. He ignored the feeling of Spock’s eyes on his back as he pretended to be engaged with his phone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always thanks for reading and thank you so much for the lovely comments and all of your support. real plot is about to happen so wish me luck!


	8. Chapter 8

Jim sat on his bed as Spock meticulously changed his clothes and brushed his slightly-overlong hair into order.  He hated himself, but the weight in his stomach just wouldn’t go away and he wondered if maybe he spoke too soon. Did it bother him that Spock is gay?

It really shouldn’t.

It shouldn’t.

And yet, Jim couldn’t ignore the steady pulsing nervousness as Spock ran his pale hands over his hair and the redness of his own cheeks when their eyes accidentally met in the mirror. Jim played with his phone, idly scanning through his texts to Bones. He’d said they could come over any time and Jim was just waiting for Spock.

It’s gonna be fine, Jim told himself, hopping down from the bed when Spock crossed to the door and opened it, indicating he was ready to leave. They crossed in silence through the dorm, the awkwardness punctuated by the occasional cheer from down the hall where Jim assumed someone was hosting a raucous pre-game. Apparently noticing this, Spock asked, “Is it not against the rules to consume alcoholic beverages in student housing?”

Jim shrugged. “Probably. But whatever. I’m not going to report them.”

“Ah. I see.”

They lapsed back into silence and Jim wondered if Spock felt as uncomfortable as he did.

“Is it nice having your mom nearby?”

Spock held the door for him as they crossed into the twilight. “Sometimes. She is quite invested in my life. And while I am aware her behavior stems from a protective instinct, I occasionally find myself feeling…”

“Suffocated?” Jim finished, scuffing the toes of his Converse against an uneven crack in the sidewalk.

“Suffocated may be too oppressive a word, but it is in the correct vein. Then again, given my condition, I may never be a functioning member of society so her concern is well founded.”

Jim abruptly stopped and grabbed futilely at Spock’s shoulder when he didn’t catch the hint and kept walking. “What the fuck?”

The grasping fingers on the shoulder of his button up must have finally registered because the other boy stopped and turned to face him, his eyebrows drawn together. “Are you well, Jim?”

“Yeah, just—“

“Then why did you stop walking?”

Jim resisted the urge to stamp his foot like a child. “You just said you might not ever be a functioning member of society. What the hell does that even mean? Functioning. You seem pretty damn functioning to me.”

Spock tilted his head slightly as his eyebrows smoothed out. “While I find your ability to look past my inadequacies heartening, I am well aware that society as whole is much more prejudiced.”

“Inadequacies?!” Jim spluttered. “Aren’t you like a genius or something?”

“Jim, I am not passing negative judgment on my intelligence. I am merely acknowledging a societal bias that both of us know to be present. Do not, as they say, ‘fly off the handle,’” Spock said, the left corner of his mouth lifting slightly, the way it always did when he teased him, and Jim was suddenly overpowered by the desire to kiss the edges of the smirk. Chase it until it became a real smile. Press into Spock and tell him without words exactly how wonderful, beautiful Jim thought he was.

And then Jim sort of felt like vomiting.

Something must have passed over his face because Spock took a worried step closer. “Jim?”

Jim held up a hand and took a deep breath, willing the world to right itself. “’S fine. I just…um…dizzy. Sorry. Give me a sec.”

Spock looked at him warily, his hands still extended slightly in front of him as if he was waiting for Jim to collapse, to catch him. “As long as you are sure.”

Jim backed up to lean against the nearest lamppost. He closed his eyes. “I’m sure.”

“Do you wish to continue to Leonard’s house or would it be best to return to the apartment?”

“Hell, no. We’re going. I need a drink,”  Jim grumbled, his eyes still closed.

“All right.”

Jim took a few more deep breaths before standing up straight so they could continue walking. They got a few more blocks down before Jim’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

MScott>>Jim

_Come over! We’re celebrating our sublime victory. 301 Hannah Lane._

Jim shot back.

Jim>>MScott

_Great! Can I bring people?_

MScott>>Jim

_of course. get your arse here_

Jim laughed aloud. He could practically hear Scotty’s voice in his head. He immediately sent a text to Bones.

Hey. change of plans. go to 301 hannah lane. we’re having a soccer shindig.

“Ok. So we’re going to one of my soccer friend’s houses instead. Is that cool?”  Jim asked as he clicked send.

Spock shrugged which Jim took as agreement. He typed Hannah Lane into the map on his phone. Hey, it was closer than Bones’s place. “Rad,”  Jim mumbled before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

They found Scotty’s place with minimal difficulty. The loud sound of bass was practically a homing beacon. The little blue house seemed like a typical college place with a once-too-many-times painted porch and cigarette butts littering the steps. The screen door was pushed open by a guy Jim didn’t recognize, who pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and promptly lit up. Jim watched tendrils of smoke slough from his lips. “ Good job at the game today,” the guy said around his cigarette.

Jim mock saluted. “All in a day’s work.”

The guy barked out a laugh as Jim and Spock crossed into the house, Spock opening the door for Jim as was apparently becoming his habit.

Almost as soon as Jim was inside, Scotty rushed him with a wide grin and boisterous laugh. Gripping his arm, Scotty dragged him to a very dirty looking table made from two sawhorses and a giant slab of plywood that had various bottles scattered across its surface. “Time for a celebratory shot,” Scotty announced, pouring two shot glasses full of whiskey.

“I think you may have had enough already,”  Jim replied, only half serious.

“Aye, but us Scots can hold our liquor,” he said with a wink.

“Okay,”  Jim said as his teammate thrust the small glass into his hand. Scotty raised his in the air in salute and Jim met him there with a clink. Together they tossed back the whiskey which made Jim grimace against the burning in his mouth and throat as Spock appeared by his side once more.

Scotty tossed the shot glass on the table and he pointed at Spock. “You’re that kid I see everywhere! Aren’t you Ny’s compsci TA?”

Spock inclined his head slightly.

“How do you know our Jimmy,” he asked, casting a friendly arm around Jim, who was beginning to feel a pleasant tingling in his extremities. He wanted to be drunker.

“He’s my roommate,”  Jim explained.

“Ah, roomies. I’m Montgomery Scott. Everybody calls me Scotty,” he said, shoving his hand at Spock, who took it gingerly.

“Spock.”

“Woah. You’re name’s as weird as you. Cool! Help yourself to the whiskey,” he said before practically bouncing from the room. The music from the center of the house decreased in volume.

Spock looked at Jim, clearly a little shell-shocked and Jim laughed at the earnest plea in his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

Spock looked over the mangy table and pursed his lips. “Very.”

“Well, I’m gonna have another and then make a sweep.”

Jim decidedly ignored the way his neck prickled as Spock watched him make a Jack and coke. A strong Jack and coke. By the time he turned back to re-engage with Spock, his friend had wandered deeper into the house, probably in pursuit of someone he knew. Jim sighed and pulled out his phone.

Bones>>Jim

_I’m outside being accosted by a smoker. Where the hell are you?_

Jim opened the door and ushered his friend inside.

“Woah, you look like you’ve been hit by a truck. What happened?”  Bones said the minute he got a good look at Jim which was a few minutes after he’d poured himself a strong drink.

Jim’s resolve crumpled. “I don’t even know, Bones.”  He felt like crying and that made him feel stupid. This was stupid.

“Want to talk about it?” Bones asked carefully from behind the rim of his solo cup.

Jim looked down into his own drink and watched the bubbles surface and pop. “I don’t know.”

Bones grasped his shoulder and said, “Want to find somewhere quiet in this shithole?”

Jim shrugged.

“Ok. Let’s top up our drinks and then we can scout.”

“Ok,” Jim replied, feeling defeated as his words were swallowed by the persistent thrum of rap music.

 

They ended up in a room upstairs where Bones sat him on the bed and then leaned against the door, regarding him with a raised eyebrow before taking a long drink.

“What’s on your mind?”

With the whiskey continuing to warm his belly and loosen his tongue, Jim groaned before saying, “I think I’m having a crisis, Bones.”

“What kind of crisis are we talking? Life changing? Action packed? How worried should I be here?”

Jim smiled slightly at his friend’s gruff tone. Trust Bones to give him a little perspective. “Nothing like that. I don’t know. Maybe life changing. I—oh, god. I think I have feelings for a guy,” Jim blurted, immediately hating the way his neck grew hot—and probably pink.

“Oh,” was all Bones had to say in reply.

“Oh? Just oh? Nothing to say to that, Bones? No sage wisdom?”  Jim bit out, simultaneously hating himself for the outburst and wishing it had done something to quell his tension.

Bones ignored his childishness and asked, “Mind telling  me who? Or do I have to guess? I’d put money one particular—“

“It’s Spock,” Jim practically shouted.

Bones chuckled. His laughter making Jim want to strangle him—or hug him—he wasn’t sure which. “You did always have a thing for fixer uppers.”

“He doesn’t need to be fixed,” Jim retorted defensively.

“Don’t get too riled up. You can’t deny he’s…different.”

“I wouldn’t have him change,” Jim said quietly, looking at his feet.

“Wow,”  Bones said with a low whistle.

“Wow what?” Jim demanded.

“You really do like him.”

“Yeah. And it’s weird and awful, but also good. Oh, I don’t even fucking know, Bones.”

Jim put his head in his free hand as silence strung between them. “I don’t mean to be insensitive,” Bones began, “and I won’t judge either way, but does this mean you’re…gay now?”

Jim was at a loss from stopping the laughter bubbling up inside him. Feeling a little hysterical, he laughed until his eyes teared up and Bones crossed to him to put a soothing hand on his back.

Jim looked at his friend and said, “Hell if I know.”

Bones nodded quietly and rubbed smalls circles between his shoulder blades. “It’s gonna be ok, Jim.”

“When is anything ever ‘ok’?”

Then they were quiet while they finished their drinks, the gentle thud of the bass downstairs shaking the bed frame slightly.

“Thanks, Bones,” Jim said into the gloom of the bedroom.

“Anytime, kiddo.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this isnt the end of this "scene" but it was a good stopping place and its been ages since i updated. i might hvae to up my chapter numbers. im so sorry about all the delays. thanks for reading! yall are the best


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is also some objectification of women that goes on somewhere in the middle of this chapter. I apologize if it offends anyone, but, in my experience, this is what college parties are like. And Kirk is having a bit of a breakdown so he's more asshole-y than usual.  
> cw objectification of women  
> cw homophobic language

Jim finished his drink and took a few deep breaths before looking at McCoy and saying, “Okay.”

He tossed his cup into the trashcan and clenched his fingers into his thighs, relishing the slight pain and then release.

McCoy stood and offered him a hand. “Once more into the breach.”

Jim laughed half-heartedly an declared, “I’m going to have fun tonight. I am going to get drunk and I’m going to hook up with someone.” McCoy looked at him dubiously, that ever-arched eyebrow arching higher. Jim scoffed. “A girl someone.”

His friend put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “If you say so. Just don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“When do I ever regret anything?”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Bones grumbled before following him out of the room and back downstairs

A few more people had trickled in while the two friends had been upstairs, but Jim made a beeline for the bar, merely nodding and shrugging off the occasional congratulatory backpat.  He felt Bones watch as he poured a significant amount of whiskey into a new cup, following it with a few splashes of coke.  A part of his brain rebelled as it spit various images of his mother, vomiting into the downstairs toilet, passed out on her bed, or yelling at nothing; what was he doing? Following in her footsteps? Jim shut down that train of thought as quickly as his alcohol-laden brain was capable. One night does not an addict make.

Jim took a hearty sip of his drink and scanned the room for likely targets. A dark ponytail caught his eye and he sauntered over, allowing himself to appear drunker than he actually was. “Uhura!” he called, opening his arms wide in welcome. She took one look at him and rolled her eyes. She was probably the only woman alive who could pull off a black sleeveless turtleneck and the effect wasn’t lost on Jim.

“Having fun tonight, Kirk?”

“You betcha. We could be having even more, if you know what I mean,” Jim said before swiping his tongue over his bottom lip.

Uhura laughed at him. “Where’s Spock?” she yelled, over the rising din of the music.

Jim shrugged and made eye contact with Scotty across the room. The older boy raised his glass and made his way to their corner. “Let’s not talk about him. I’d rather be talking about you,” Jim said close to Uhura’s ear as he pressed his hand against the wall and loomed over her.

“Kirk,” Uhura said, deftly moving away from him. “You know Scotty.” Jim looked at her in confusion. Of course he knew Scotty. She reached out a hand and Scotty clasped it before raising it to his lips for a quick kiss. “My boyfriend,” Uhura finished pointedly as Scotty pulled her against him so he could kiss her cheek.

“Oh,” Jim said, feeling mortified.

Uhura seemed caught up by Scotty’s sudden attention and Jim heard her murmur, “Want to go dance?” When Scotty nodded and began to pull her away she said to Jim, “Go find Spock, okay?” Jim started to make an excuse but she just kept talking, “And don’t jerk him around.”

Jim was left alone with his drink and the echo of her words. He scowled.

Suddenly, Sulu was in front of him, smiling widely. “Come play beer pong with us!”

And so, all thoughts of Uhura vanished and Jim was dragged into a back room with low lighting, a table, and far too many solo cups.

 

Many drinks later, Jim found himself double high-fiving Sulu and time lapped around him as if he were a row boat on choppy waters. Bones was pressing a cup of water into his hands. He was trying to find a restroom. Spock was by his side. Was gone. Was watching him from across the room. Jim’s face was itching with alcohol and his fingertips were tingling with shameful want every time he caught Spock’s eyes. The oppressive pop music slammed in around his ears and he crossed into the kitchen where the music was quietest. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes against the too-tight feeling in his ribs.

“We didn’t invite you. Your _type_ isn’t welcome here.” Jim heard the words drifting in from the open kitchen door. The back porch was lit by one of those blue bug catchers and Jim saw Spock, his already pale features cast into ethereal blueness. The door was open at such an angle that Jim couldn’t see who was speaking to his roommate. Jim blinked, once, twice. His eyelids lingered shut, but the after-image of Spock’s taut expression burned brighter in the darkness of his mind.

“What type is that?” Spock asked quietly and Jim’s eyes snapped open once more.

“Don’t play stupid, you homo-goblin-freak.”

“I was informed by Mr. Scott, the owner of this house, that my presence was welcome. If you take issue—“

“Damn right, I _take issue_. I don’t want my teammates associating with faggots like you.”

And Jim felt suddenly sober. He knew that voice. The way he spat around the word _faggot_. Mitchell. It was fucking Mitchell being an ignorant asshole. Jim took two big swallows from the water in his cup and then marched onto the porch. Before he could say anything, Mitchell turned on him. “It was you wasn’t it? Bringing your roommate here? Well, I don’t very well fucking like that,” Mitchell ground out.

“Spock hasn’t done anything,” Jim said. “We’re friends and I was told that I could bring any friend I pleased.”

“Freaks don’t count,” Mitchell replied, shoving Jim back against Spock.

Jim gripped the side of the house until he had his balance back. He’d never regretted being drunk in his life until this moment. He wished he were more put together so he could beat the shit out of Mitchell or at least stand up straight long enough to give him a piece of his mind.

The bug light sizzled and popped as some poor insect flew against it.

“Whatever,” Jim said, “we’ll just leave. C’mon, Spock, let’s go.”  He grabbed Spock’s wrist and was just inside the door when Mitchell said, “Fine. Go and suck each other off. How do you like the taste of goblin dick, Kirk?”

Jim’s fingers curled into fists so quickly that he nearly broke the skin of his palms, but before he could retaliate, Scotty was at his elbow with Sulu close behind.

“Had a few too many, Mitchell?” Scotty asked, squeezing between Jim and the doorjamb to join Mitchell on the porch.

“No. Just enough, I’d say.”

Scotty continued to converse with the team captain while Sulu led Spock and Kirk away and through the house to the front porch. The party had died down, but music still thumped through the walls as they stepped out of the house.

“Sorry about that,” Sulu said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Mitchell’s an ass. But you know that.”

Jim shrugged. A sudden ringing made him start and he looked over at Spock who was gazing down at the pocket of his pants like it had grown its own legs and started riverdancing. Jim watched as his roommate dug the phone from his pocket and answered it while he crossed to the sidewalk, leaving Sulu and Jim alone.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have gotten so riled up.” Jim groaned. “ Ugh, if I weren’t so drunk, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.”

Sulu laughed. “You were going pretty HAM in there. Anything you want to talk about?”

Jim’s eyes drifted to Spock who was still on the phone, a pinched expression on his face. “Not really.”

Sulu followed the direction of his gaze and clapped a hand on his back. “It’ll work out.”

Jim rubbed his forehead and sighed. “I hope so.”

A sick choking sound drew both Sulu and Jim’s attention to the street where Spock had sunk down onto the edge of the sidewalk. Jim’s stomach dropped as he exchanged a glance with Sulu. They rushed over to Spock who sat frozen with the phone in his hands. When they reached his side, Spock handed the phone to Jim. It was off and Jim stared at it, confused.

Spock looked up at him, his face eerily blank. “That was the police. There’s been an accident.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) this is the second update today because i am leaving the country in two days and want this to be finished before i go  
> 2) ok so things are about to get real and i cannot vouch for the behavior of my characters. people do shitty things when they are grieving and this is rate E for a reason.

Jim managed to get the name of the hospital they needed to go to before Spock shut down completely. His friend sat on the concrete edge of the sidewalk, staring at nothing. The silence was frightening. Jim looked at Sulu, who looked as lost he felt. “Is there anyone in there who is sober enough to drive?”

Sulu’s mouth worked for a few moments before realization hit. “Uhura! She’s been sober all night. She said she has a test tomorrow. I bet Scotty would let her take his car.”

“Okay. Go get her,” Jim said decisively. “I’m gonna stay here with Spock. Fill her in on the details.”

Sulu turned to go, but paused. “Jim, I don’t know the details. Who’s hurt? I mean I can say that Spock—“

“His mom. Spock’s mom,” Jim said quietly, laying a careful hand between Spock’s shoulder blades and feeling a tremor there. Spock hadn’t said who it was, but Jim figured: who else would have Spock as an emergency contact?

“Oh,” Sulu breathed. He stared at Spock for a moment before jogging into the house.

Jim mimicked Bones’s actions from earlier in the evening and rubbed soothing circles into Spock’s back. “No matter what, it’s going to be okay. We’re here for you. I’m here for you. It’ll be okay,” Jim said in a low voice.

He was startled by a sharp intake of breath from Spock and Jim thought, finally, now tears. But none came. A few minutes passed before a red sedan pulled up in front of them, Uhura got out of the driver’s seat and helped Jim stand Spock up. The two of them managed to load Spock into the backseat and when Jim went to cross to the front passenger seat, Uhura stopped him. “It’s fine. Stay back there with him.”

Jim nodded tightly and slid in next to his roommate. His phone beeped and he withdrew it from his pocket.

Hikaru>>Jim

 _Text me if you need anything. We’re all here for you. And him_.

Tears prickled at the back of eyes and he took a few deep breaths before looking over at Spock who was staring out the window, just as blank as before. Without thinking too hard about it, Jim reached out and took Spock’s right hand, which had been resting in his lap. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Spock’s knuckles in the way that he had always found most soothing and tried to project calm, supportive energy.

It took them fifteen minutes to reach the hospital. Jim tried to let go of Spock’s hand in order to get out of the car, but Spock’s grip tightened before he could. Jim rubbed his other hand down Spock’s forearm like he was a spooked horse and said in a low voice, “We have to go inside now. I’ll be right here with you.”

Spock released his hand and Jim clambered from the car. Spock seemed to have regained some of his focus because he got himself out of the car and to Jim’s side without anybody’s guidance. Jim took his hand once more. “I’m going to park this thing. I’ll meet you guys in there,” Uhura said from inside the car.

“Okay,” Jim replied, squeezing Spock’s hand again. The doors of the hospital slid open and Jim was hit with the too clean, too old smell of hospital as they walked in together. He regretted every sip of alcohol he had had that evening even if the shock of the moment made him feel inordinately sober. He crossed to the desk where a nurse sat making notations on a clipboard. She looked up and he smiled his most charming smile at her, hoping she wouldn’t notice if he smelled like booze. Her face softened slightly and Jim felt relieved. “Hi, I’m Jim Kirk. This is my friend Spock…I mean Cole Grayson. We received a call about an accident.”

The woman’s face fell and she pursed her lips. “If you go through those doors over there,” she said as she reached over the desk and pointed to their right, “then take a left at the end of the hall, there’s an auxiliary waiting room. There are policemen there. You’ll probably have some paperwork to fill out. At least your friend will.”

Jim nodded slowly before looking at Spock who met his eyes with a desperate expression. “I’m here, okay?” Jim said. Spock inclined his head a fraction of an inch as his wide eyes flicked between the nurse and Jim.

The walk down the hall seemed to take forever and they entered the other waiting room where plastic chairs were pressed against gray walls and two police officers stood conversing near the children’s toys beneath a television mounted high on the wall. An infomercial for shamwow played on mute in the background. The two officers turned to them. The taller male officer hooked his thumbs into his belt while the shorter female smiled kindly at them as they entered the room. The male officer crossed to the door and shut it. The female, who had the most brilliant red hair Jim had ever seen, reach out a hand and Jim shook it while saying, “Hi, I’m Jim Kirk. I’m Spock’s friend.”

Her eyes flicked to their joined hands as he said the word friend, but he saw no judgment in her expression. She nodded. “I’m Officer Williams. You two might want to take a seat. Spock,” she said, turning to him, “Is it all right if Jim stays?”

Spock nodded tightly, but she pressed, “I’m going to need a verbal confirmation.”

Spock looked at Jim helplessly. “Jim can stay,” he croaked, his eyes not leaving Jim’s. Jim nodded encouragingly. Or he at least hoped it looked encouraging.

Officer Williams seated herself across from them and leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “At 11:56 pm, a semi-truck ran a red light at the corner of Massey Boulevard and Main Street and struck Amanda Grayson’s vehicle in the intersection. She died on impact.”

Spock was gripping Jim’s hand so tightly that Jim could hardly feel his fingers. He looked at their joined hands and felt strangely numb. “The other driver?” Spock said between clenched teeth, surprising Jim.

“Is in critical condition. He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.” Officer Williams regarded the two of them calmly, her eyes sad. “Your mother’s belongings are currently being photographed for insurance purposes, but they can be returned to you within 24 hours. Do you know your mother’s insurance policy number?”

Spock nodded. Jim was a little shocked at that, but he supposed with a brain like Spock’s anything was possible.

“Officer Beggs,” she said to the policeman by the door. He straightened abruptly. “The forms?”

He grabbed a clipboard that had been sitting on a nearby chair and handed it to Officer Williams who glanced over the pages before handing them to Spock. “This is the incident report, if you could put the number there,” she said pointing at a blank line at the top of the page. Spock filled it in deftly and she took it back, removing the top sheet from the clipboard. “We can do the rest.”

A moment of silence. “You were her only emergency contact. Is there anyone else you can call?”

Spock shook his head. Officer Williams exchanged a look with her fellow officer. “I’m sure you can speak to someone here about funeral arrangements.”

Jim sunk back into his chair and felt the weight of everything that had just happened crash into him. He felt like crying. He had just met Spock’s mom that day. He’d liked her. He’d thought he’d be seeing a lot of her. The universe could be exceedingly cruel.

Officer Williams stood. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Grayson. Until then, take care of yourself.”

 

 

The next hour was at turns horrifying and numbing. The nurse at the front desk gave them a card for a funeral home in the area that could come get the body once it was released as well as cremate it and provide a venue for the funeral. Spock seemed indifferent to hosting a funeral as he insisted that “all of Mother’s family was gone.”

“That might be true, Spock, but what about the faculty and students at the college? Your mother worked there and I’m sure that everyone would like to say goodbye.”

“That is illogical. My mother is dead. No one can say goodbye to her.” It was said so matter-of-factly that Jim wanted to scream.

Instead, he took a deep breath and said, “Be that as it may, people are illogical, okay?”

Spock seemed to accept that and they signed a few forms at the desk before finding Uhura in the outer waiting room, looking nervous. “Is it Amanda?” she demanded. Jim nodded.

“She is dead,” Spock said blankly and Jim wished he were still catatonic rather than so blatantly unfeeling. Uhura immediately burst into tears and rushed at Spock, pressed her forehead against his shoulder. His hands came up and rested on her back. Jim felt an irrational spike of possessiveness at their closeness. _She has a boyfriend, you idiot, and now is DEFINITELY not the time._ She took a moment and composed herself. Her hands clenched in his shirt, she leaned back and looked up at Spock. “If you need anything, anything at all. I’m here for you. And Jim and the entire soccer team probably.”

“I will need to clean the house,” Spock announced. Uhura laughed wetly, wiping her face with the back of her hand as she took another step back.

“We can do that,” she said with a supportive nod.

“Yeah,” Jim added. “Yeah, we can.”

 

 

The drive home felt so much quicker than the drive to the hospital. Uhura dropped them off in front of the dorms and Jim trailed after Spock who seemed to be making up for his lapse of attention with a renewed speed and focus. Jim practically had to jog to keep up with him.

The hall was quiet as Spock opened the door, not bothering to hold it for Jim. He had to lunge to grab it before it shut. “Jesus, Spock. Cool your jets.”

“I have no so-called ‘jets’ and therefore cannot lower their temperature.”

Jim groaned and grabbed at his friends shoulder, trying to stop him from stomping off. “If you need to talk, please, just…just say something. I’ll listen. Hell, we can do whatever you want. We can drink, we can eat obscene amounts of junk food, we can play chess.” _We can fuck_. The unspoken option made Jim blush scarlet. It was not the time for that. No matter if Jim liked to handle grief and pain by fucking or fighting it out, not everyone was like that. He swallowed as Spock continued to stare at him. “I guess… I’m here for you. God, that sounds trite. But it’s true. You’re my—my friend,” Jim finished lamely.

Spock turned and continued to walk toward their room. Jim followed him and Spock opened the door, holding it for him like usual. “I am fine,” Spock said decisively as Jim passed him to enter the room. “I am fine. And I am going to bed.” He crossed and turned on the lamp on the desk between their beds.

Jim watched as Spock carefully untied his shoes, placed them under his bed. He unbuttoned his shirt like he did every day, leaving him in the snug white undershirt that made Jim’s mouth go dry. He unzipped his jeans, removing them and folding them neatly before placing them atop his dresser. Something about the way he stood—his shoulders slightly hunched against Jim’s gaze—in just his white shirt, black boxer briefs and socks made Jim’s heart twist up in his chest and he felt that indefinable pull deep in his stomach that predecessed arousal. And maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the whiskey still coloring his judgment, or maybe it was just Jim’s inability to say no to his lizard brain, but he found himself on his feet crossing the room as Spock turned down the comforter on his bed. As he drew close, Spock turned to look at him with one eyebrow raised in question. Jim smiled at the familiarity of it. His world narrowed as he placed his hands on Spock’s hips, delicately pressing Spock until his weight was against the side of his bed then Jim kissed him. The pressure inside him was simultaneously released and increased as he pressed his body fully against Spock’s.

Spock jerked his head back just as Jim licked at the soft seam of his lips. “What are you doing?” Spock asked, his hands fisted in the blankets behind him, their thighs still slightly offset so that Jim would only have to press _just so_ … and they were perfectly aligned. Jim gasped at the feeling of Spock’s hard thigh against the erection he felt relieved to have. How long had he been attracted to Spock? Was that bemused interest he’d always felt really been attraction? He felt like an idiot. This was amazing.

“Spock, unlike you apparently, I feel terrible,” Jim said quietly, kissing his way up Spock’s neck, shocked at how much he liked the slightly roughness of stubble against his lips. He threaded his fingers through Spock’s unruly hair and Spock’s breath hitched. Smiling against his skin, Jim continued, “I want this. I want comfort. I want my blood to pump. I want to feel alive.  I want _you_.”

Jim watched Spock’s finger uncurl from the blankets and he nipped at the spot right behind Spock’s right ear. The long pale hands flew up and dug into Jim’s shirt. Jim’s grin grew wider.

“We are roommates. It is not… _practical_ ,” Spock gasped as Jim lifted the hem of his shirt and ran his hands up Spock’s ribcage.

“If that’s your only counter argument, you’re going to have to try harder,” Jim said with a laugh, tweaking Spock’s nipple in the process. Turns out some erogenous zones are universal, regardless of gender.

Jim felt Spock’s erection through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs as it pressed against his hip and dipped his hand into the waistband, ready for more, but Spock gripped his wrist and pushed him away. “You aren’t gay.”

Jim groaned in frustration. “I didn’t think I was, but my dick begs to differ!” He indicated the erection straining against his zipper as if it were the evidence that would win his case.

That made Spock lose it, he made a low sound in his throat and backed Jim up against the bed across the room. He laid one hand on his chest and pushed him sharply. “Get in the bed,” he demanded, his voice low. Jim scrambled up onto his mussed sheets and kicked off his shoes. Spock immediately followed, pressing against his torso and tangling their legs together. Jim grasped the back of his neck and pulled him down for a deeper kiss. Their hips ground together in delicious friction and Spock broke their kiss to reach between them and undo Jim’s pants. Jim lifted his hips and allowed Spock to help him shimmy out of them. Spock regarded him for a moment as Jim sat up awkwardly. “What?”

Spock shook his head. “Nothing. I am just—nothing. Remove your shirt.”

“Awesome,” Jim said, pulling the shirt over his head swiftly. “Now kiss me.”

Jim relished the feel of Spock’s lips on his, the taste of his mouth and the ways his fingertips dug into Jim’s chest as they found a rhythm between them. Jim wanted to feel more skin so he tugged on Spock’s undershirt to get him to take it off. Spock sat up and gripped his hem before pausing momentarily. “I believe it is in both of our best interests for me to inform you that I have never done this before, so you may have to…show me the way, so to speak.”

And, with those words, all the guilt and worry that Jim had somehow avoided became horrifying reality. What was he doing? If he really had feelings for Spock, he wouldn’t be doing this. He was being disgustingly selfish and it made him sick. Spock noticed something was wrong and his hands left his shirt to rest on Jim’s bare chest. “Jim?” Spock asked.

Jim gripped Spock’s fingers, drawing his hands to his lips to kiss them. “You’re right, Spock. We shouldn’t do this.”

A small scowl passed over Spock’s face before it settled into its usual passivity. “If you believe it best.”

Jim smiled wryly. “I do.”

Spock began to gracefully leave the bed, his expression stony, presumably to return to his own, but Jim refused to release his hands. “Hey. No. Stay with me. I just…You shouldn’t lose your virginity to a sexually confused guy on a night like this. I’m sorry I pressured you.”

“You were not asking anything I did not wish to give,” Spock said quietly.

“I know,” Jim replied, turning them both so he could wrap his arms around Spock, with Spock’s back pressed against his front. He kissed the nape of his neck. “Goodnight, Spock.”

“Goodnight, Jim,” Spock murmured.

Jim smiled. They would talk in the morning. They could go to Spock’s mom’s house and clean a little. Jim would email his and Spock’s professors and get class off on Monday so that everything could be taken care of before the funeral. Everything would be fine. They would talk in the morning.

 

When Jim woke up with a sore body and dry mouth, Spock was already gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all your comments have been really great and for those of you who said they would freak out if amanda died, well, here...have a virtual hug.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please see end notes for content warnings (they are spoilery)

Bones called Jim in the morning with a harsh word for disappearing on him the night before.

“You hung over?” Bones barked by way of greeting when Jim answered the phone after stepping out of the shower.

“Shockingly no,” Jim said.

“Well then. Want to get some breakfast?”

Jim glanced at Spock’s empty bed and his stomach twisted. “Look, Bones, something bad happened last night.”

“Oh god, did you fuck the hobgoblin?” Bones asked, his voice sharp but teasing. Jim hated how close to the truth that was and wasn’t.

“No. Um, Spock’s mom was in an accident,” Jim said, feeling awkward. “She died.”

“Oh,” Bones replied and Jim suddenly remembered sophomore year when Bones’s dad had gotten sick. Really sick.

“We’re headed to his mom’s house today to pack some things up.”

“I’m coming,” Bones said firmly.

“You don’t have to do that—“

“I know, but I’m going to.”

“All right,” Jim said. “I’ll pick you up at your place within the hour.”

“Ok,” Bones replied and Jim went to hang up but stopped when Bones asked, “Is Spock going to take an incomplete for the semester?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Jim said, grabbing a shirt from his dresser. “It’s weird. I’m mean, he’s weird. Weirder than usual. When he found out he went all silent and stuff but once we got back from the hospital, he practically said that everything was fine.”

Bones snorted. “He can say that all he likes, but it just isn’t true. I don’t care how his brain is wired, he just lost a parent. And that fucking sucks. Keep an eye on him.”

The door to Jim’s room swung open and Spock stepped in carrying a book. He evaded Jim’s eyes as he crossed to his desk. Jim felt extremely naked in just his jeans with a phone pressed to his ear and a t-shirt in his hand.

“Speak of the devil,” Jim murmured into the phone. “I really have to go. I’ll see you in an hour.” He hit the end button before Bones could reply. Turning to Spock he said, “Bones said he’d help us clean out your mom’s house. Do you think you’ll be ready to go in an hour?”

“I’m not going,” Spock said as he slid into his desk chair.

“Excuse me?” Jim asked, tossing his phone on to his bed and pulling his shirt on.

“Due to the events of last night I was unable to complete my homework to the best of my ability. I must do so now.”

Jim crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sure if you just told your professors what’s going on that they’d give you extensions.”

“Unnecessary,” Spock said, pulling a book to him and cracking it open.

“Spock, there’s got to be food and trash and stuff at your mom’s house that needs to be taken care of. If you don’t feel ready to go, that’s fine, but if you give me a key and tell me where to go, Bones and I can take care of it.”

Spock finally turned to look at him. “That is acceptable,” Spock said, his brown eyes a striking whiskey gold and Jim felt like he could see right through his skin into his bones. He suppressed a shudder. Spock ripped a sheet of paper from his notepad and neatly wrote out an address. He pulled a set of keys from the drawer to his right and passed both paper and keys to him. Jim took them with the silent wish that he could grab Spock’s hands and pull him into a hug. Instead, Jim stared at the innocuous items in his hands.

“Look, Spock, about what happened last night…” Jim drifted off, unsure how the sentence ended. Spock turned back to his book, the hard lines of his back dismissal enough.

Jim growled with frustration, grabbed his keys, his phone and his shoes and stomped into the hall.

 

Spock’s childhood home was 70s chic split level in the suburbs across town. Jim and Bones stepped up the walkway between two raised brick lined flowerbeds on either side of the brown door. The beige siding looked sickly in the bright morning sunlight and Jim took a deep breath before opening the door and letting them into the house. He looked back at Bones who was surveying the flowerbeds with a sad expression. They were filled with pansies. “His mom liked to garden,” Bones said absently. Jim swallowed thickly.

The dated exterior disguised a clearly refurbished interior, replete with hardwood floors and metal fixtures. The front door opened into a living room with mahogany colored leather couches and an electric fireplace in the far wall to the right. There was a big archway directly ahead that revealed a dining room table and the beginnings of marble counters. Jim and McCoy crossed into the kitchen and Jim was amazed at the luxury of it. He thought back to his dated farmhouse appliances and the dirt permanently encrusted in the corners of every room and he felt a wave of envy. Then he felt guilty for being envious. He sighed heavily and McCoy looked at him questioningly. Jim shrugged. “Just having a lot of feelings, Bones.”

Bones nodded. “I get that.”

“All right, let’s find trashbags and clear out the fridge and anything not in cans.”

The trashbags were in the pantry, which, by Jim’s standards, was big enough to be a bedroom. They quickly emptied out the fridge and freezer, dumping the contents of Tupperware containers into the big white bags and tossing the dirty containers into the sink—to be washed. When they finished there, Jim washed his hands in the bathroom off the kitchen and began to open doors in the hallway.

“What the hell are you doing, Jim?” Bones asked from the kitchen where had begun to handwash dishes.

“Somebody has to clean up his mom’s room,” Jim said, opening another door only to be confronted by a cinnamon-laced scent that Jim didn’t even realize he knew. It was Spock’s room. Jim edged the door open and stepped into his friend’s room, shocked by the Spartan emptiness. There was a dresser, a desk, a bed, but nothing else. This looked like a guest room. Then Jim saw it, a large, well-worn teddy bear, placed lovingly on the bedspread. Jim picked it up and sank down on the bed. Before he could process what was happening, he began to cry. Giant, heaving sobs wracked his body and he gripped the teddy bear like a lifeline. Bones must have heard something because he appeared in the doorway looking concerned. “Jim?” he asked warily.

Jim held up the stuffed animal. “He had a teddy bear,” he said as if it were an explanation.

Bones sat next to him. “It’s going to be okay,” he said quietly.

“No!” Jim shouted, throwing the teddy bear against the pillows. “No, it’s not! Why does everyone keep saying that? I keep saying that. I hate it. God, I hate it.” Jim pressed his face into his hands and tried to breathe through his tears.

“People say it because it’s true,” Bones said. “Trust me. Things feel impossible now, and maybe tomorrow will be equally bad, but a week from now, it will be a little less painful. And the same will be true two weeks from now.”

Jim looked at his friend and then back at his knees.  “I tried to sleep with Spock last night,” Jim confessed.

Bones sucked in a sharp breath. “Shit, that’s moving fast.”

“I know! I just—I felt terrible last night and Spock was just so—so lost looking and weirdly…weird. And you know me, fucking my way to happiness.” Jim wiped at his cheeks.

“You said _tried._ Tried to sleep with Spock.”

“Well, yeah. I started things and then he said that he was a virgin and I couldn’t do it. I mean we _cuddled,_ Bones.”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” McCoy said narrowing his eyes at Jim. “You’d sleep with a guy just after his mom died, but if he’s a virgin it’s a no go?”

“Well, that makes me sound like a shitty person.”

“It was a shitty thing to do!” McCoy insisted.

“Oh God, I know.”

“And this morning?”

“What about this morning?” Jim asked, confused.

“If you cuddled all night then how was the awkward morning after?” McCoy asked, a small smile on his lips.

“That’s just it! We didn’t talk about it. Nothing. Zip. Zilch.” Jim said, digging his hands into his hair. “Like it never happened.”

“How does that make you feel?”

Jim glared at him for playing his cliché psychiatrist bit, but he answered honestly, “I don’t really know.”

“Do you want it to happen again?”

Jim thought for a moment. Thought about Spock’s lips on his, the way he felt pressed against Jim’s chest, the soft huffing sounds he had made when Jim kissed his neck. “Yeah,” Jim said softly. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well, then you’ll just have to find a way to make him talk about it.”

Jim nodded and took a beat before standing. “Better find his mom’s room and finish up.”

“Yeah, about that,” Bones began, shaking his head. “I don’t know if you should touch his mom’s stuff. He might say he’s fine now, but there’s no way to know. When my dad died, there was something cathartic about packing up his things and we won’t be hurting anything by leaving his mom’s stuff like it is.”

“Yeah, okay. You’re probably right,” Jim acknowledged.

Together they hauled the trashbags out to the garbage, locked the door and left the house.

 

The rest of the week passed with Spock deftly avoiding Jim at every turn. He never stayed long in their room and it was so much like the weeks prior that Jim had to remind himself that he hadn’t imagined Saturday night. That very eventful, very shitty day.

Practice went as usual even if Gary Mitchell pressed Jim harder than usual, he might have been captain but Pike was in charge and apparently very aware of and very capable of dealing with Mitchell’s asshole tendencies. In lieu of being able to deal with the emotional fallout of Amanda’s passing with the friend he most wanted to spend time with, Jim threw himself into soccer like he hadn’t since high school. He went to practice early and left late. He augmented his diet to streamline his performance and made sure to run three miles every other morning. The changes to his schedule gave him something to focus on, concrete goals to accomplish.

Apparently, Amanda had wanted to be cremated and the damage to her body was too severe for a wake so Spock set up a memorial service two weeks after the accident. At least Jim assumed Spock set it up. As Amanda had worked for the university, the service was going to be held in conference center on campus and the entire student body had been invited. So instead of being informed by his roommate of the date of the service, a soft ping in his inbox did the job. Part of Jim was glad that Spock had been avoiding him because he was angry and worried and confused. As much as Jim wanted to talk, he didn’t know what to say.

The day of the service Jim woke early and took a long shower. He dressed in his only slacks and a black button up. Spock had left the room just as Jim’s alarm had gone off, probably to go to the conference center early. Jim toyed with the idea of putting on a tie, but he only had one and it was bright purple. Not exactly appropriate.

A few students in dark clothes walked across campus at the same time he did. They were all older. Students who had worked with Amanda in the past. The conference center was filled  with students and faculty and was eerily silent. A person sat at a table by the door and handed Jim a postcard shaped paper with a picture of Amanda on it. She was wearing a purple sweater that stood stark against the natural background. She looked like she was in a park somewhere and she was smiling brightly at the camera.

Jim scanned the crowd for Spock and finally spotted him near the front surrounded by people Jim didn’t recognize. Feeling out of place, Jim walked over to Spock, interrupting the older woman next to him. “Do you want me to sit with you?” Jim asked as his palms began to sweat.

Spock looked up at him. “As there are no available seats that would be unnecessary.”

Jim ignored him and looked at the woman he had interrupted. “Hi,” he said, “I think that Spock could really use a friend right now, do you mind letting me have this seat?”

The woman looked taken aback, but, surprisingly, not offended. She stood. “Be my guest.”

Jim smiled at her as they traded places and she moved a row back. The folding chair creaked beneath him as he adjusted to get slightly more comfortable.

“You did not have to do that,” Spock whispered sharply. “I am fine.”

“Of course you are,” Jim murmured not looking at Spock, as the silence loomed louder and a man stood and crossed to the podium in the front of the room.

So the service began and Jim thought Spock would speak at some point, but he never did. He just sat, face front, completely immobile throughout the entirety of the two hour service. After everything was over, he stood by the door and accepted condolences from strangers. It made Jim think about what would happen when his own mother died. What sort of people would come to her funeral? He didn’t love his mom like Spock loved his, but would Jim be forced to speak? His mind wandered as he waited for Spock to finish. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Bones>>Jim

_Hey, you and Spock should come over tonight. Just you guys and anybody Spock wants to invite. He shouldn’t be alone._

Jim>>Bones

_I’ll tell him but hes been the king of avoidance lately so idk if he’ll come_

He put the phone back in his pocket before taking a short trip to the bathroom. He really should have known better. When he came back out, Spock had left.

Jim>>Spock

_Bones invited us over to his house for a sort of get-your-mind-of-things get together. it’d just be the three of us. I’ll head over there around 6. say you’ll come._

Spock didn’t respond and Jim shouldn’t have been disappointed, but he couldn’t help it.

 

Jim ended up inviting Sulu, Scotty and Uhura because even if Spock showed up, he didn’t think he would mind those three being there. Besides, Jim needed a little support too.

The five of them lounged on Bones’s couches after eating a whole pizza. Jim balanced a beer on his stomach as he sunk lower into the cushions. Uhura and Scotty glanced meaningfully at each other and Scotty cleared his throat. “So…Jimbo. How’s things with Spock?”

Jim looked over at him and shrugged, his shoulders making a weird huffing sound against the pleather couch cushion.

Sulu shifted in his corner of the couch. “You confessed yet?”

Bones coughed awkwardly.

Jim slipped out of the couch and onto the floor with a thud. “What the fuck, Bones!”

Sulu came to his defense. “He didn’t say anything.”

“At least not anything we didn’t already know,” Uhura murmured. Jim looked at her accusingly. “What? You’re always making moon eyes at him.”

Scotty nodded sagely and brought his hands to eyes where he did some sort of jazz hands situation. “Moon eyes.”

“You guys are assholes,” Jim said with no real heat as he took a big gulp of his beer.

“So…?” Sulu asked.

“So what?” Jim replied.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“There’s nothing to talk about it,” Jim said. Uhura snorted in disbelief and Jim continued, raising his voice for emphasis. “Moon eyes or no. Spock’s not interested.” Jim closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the seat cushion.

“Bullshit,” Uhura said.

“Ny,” Scotty began with a warning in his tone.

“No, Monty. It’s bullshit. Spock’s been pining after Jim for ages.”

Jim laughed disparagingly but his stupid heart skipped a beat. “I’ve only known him for two and half months.”

Uhura shrugged. “Well maybe not ages. But for at least a month. And that’s long enough.”

Someone’s phone buzzed and Jim’s hand immediately went to his pocket. Which was empty. _Shit._

Jim stood up abruptly and palmed his various pockets. He turned and lifted the couch cushion. Nothing. “I think I forgot my phone, guys,” Jim said.

“Big deal,” Bones said. “Everyone you know is here.”

“What if Spock needs to contact me? It’s a short walk back to the dorm. I’ll just run and get it.”

Jim put his bottle on the side table and crossed to the door as Scotty declared, “Time for Super Smash Brothers!”

He smiled as he shut the door behind him. Feeling naked without his phone, Jim walked quickly back to the dorm. It was nearly nine o’clock and the occasional student walked passed him on their way to their own parties. For a moment, Jim felt a strange peace like he had finally found somewhere he belonged.

He jogged the last block to the dorms, the autumn breeze playing through his hair as he went.

When he opened the door to his room the last thing he expected to see was Spock. Spock in his bed like he was sleeping. It took at least thirty seconds for the details to sink in. Two bottles of pills on the floor, the bottle of water, the washed out look of his already pale skin. Jim couldn’t get to his side fast enough.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Jim said, grabbing Spock’s wrist, trying to find a pulse. Faint, but beating. Jim looked down at the two bottles of pills. One was aspirin and the other basic Benadryl. Hauling Spock from his bed, Jim wrapped his arms around him and dragged him to the bathroom. Never in his life had Jim been thankful for his mother. She was crazy. She was a drug addict. But from her Jim had learned about this.

Spock’s eyes opened minutely when Jim shoved on the bathroom light. He made a gurgling sound and Jim cursed.

Pressing his friend against the wall, he lifted the toilet seat with his foot and manhandle Spock to the ground. “Fuck you, Spock. Fuck this. How fucking dare you,” Jim spat as he cranked open Spock’s mouth and shoved to fingers down his throat. “Fucking vomit. Just do it. Jesus.”

Jim finally managed to trigger a gag reflex and two heave later pink, pill-stained bile dribbled into the toilet. He made Spock vomit again, holding his head over the toilet and jamming his fingers down his throat. Vomit splattered the floor and Jim’s pants, but he didn’t care. At that moment, all he cared about was getting Spock to open his goddamn eyes. To make some sign of life.

Finally, nothing was coming out of Spock’s stomach and Jim leaned him against the wall. “Wake up,” Jim growled. He slapped Spock’s cheek lightly, then harder. Spock’s eyes flickered open, his pupils were blown wide and the usually brilliant irises were dull like muddy water. “Jim?” he murmured before he closed his eyes again.

Jim left Spock in the bathroom and retrieved his phone from the pants he had worn to the funeral. He had a text. From Spock. An hour ago.

Spock>>Jim

_I am sorry._

Jim resisted the urge to the throw his phone against the wall. He dialed Bones’s number. He picked up on the second ring.

“Jim?”

“Bones,” Jim said hurriedly, “Spock took a ton of pills and I got him to vomit but he’s not keeping his eyes open. What do I do?”

“Have you called 911?”

“No. I can’t do that. They’ll kick him out of school. I can’t get Spock kicked out of school—“

“Would you rather he was dead? Call 911 or I will.”

So Jim hung up and called 911.

 

The emergency serviceman informed him he could have done irreparable damage to Spock’s digestive system by forcing him to vomit all those pills. Jim found that he did not care. Shortly after they arrived at the hospital, Spock went into a coma, forcing the doctor’s to intubate him. The man working in the ER said that it was normal for people who committed suicide in that manner. He said that if Spock—except he called him Cole—didn’t wake up within 24 hours than he might not wake up at all. The nurses let Jim wait in the room with him. Jim left four times, twice to pee, once to get food, and once to call Bones who told him that he only needed to ask if he needed anything.

Spock woke up around 2 in the afternoon while Jim was dozing. The period of consciousness was short and he quickly fell back asleep. The doctor said he was out of the woods and he removed the intubation tube. Jim noticed a small cut on his lip from the weird apparatus. He didn’t say anything. The nurses asked if Spock had any family that Jim could call. He shook his head, feeling numb.

Bones came around 5 to take him back to the dorm where he took a quick shower before driving himself back to the hospital. They didn’t speak in the car. Jim didn’t have anything to say.  

Spock finally woke up completely that night and Jim sat in the chair by his bed, waiting for him to be able to speak. The nurse came in with a water cup and tilted the bed so that Spock was in a sitting position. The angle accentuated the deep circles beneath his eyes and the green-tinged bruising around his mouth. Once the nurse left, Spock looked at Jim. “I am sorry,” Spock said quietly.

“You should have talked to me,” Jim replied. “I mean, I’m not blaming you, but, I was more than willing to listen.”

“You said you were fine,” Jim continued.

“I lied,” Spock said.

Jim didn’t know what to say to that and he started to laugh. He laughed so hard that he started to cry and Spock watched him impassively the whole time. When he finally got his breath back he leaned back in his chair and wiped at his eyes. “The school’s probably going to require you to take at least a term off.”

“I am aware.”

Jim shifted forward in his chair, placing a hand onto the bed. “I hate to ask this, but….financially…are you okay? Do you need to sell anything or…I can loan you money…”

“My mother saved a great deal of money and her…life insurance will pay enough for me to live comfortably for several years.”

Jim felt relieved.

 

The next morning a counselor came from the school and asked Jim to leave while she spoke to Spock. He hovered outside the room while they conversed and the minute she left he returned to Spock’s side and asked, “So?”

“In order to return to school full time, I am required to enroll in a psychiatric rehabilitation program for four weeks and maintain outpatient therapy for a further six and upon re-enrollment I must attend weekly therapy sessions with the school’s counseling providers.”

“Oh,” Jim said. That added up to at least a term off.

Spock picked at the blanket covering his legs. “I have a question.”

Jim chuckled. “Ask away.”

“Why are you here?”

Jim blinked, taken aback. “You don’t have anyone else.”

Spock looked out the window. Jim hastily tried to fix what he had said. “Not just that, I mean all my friends care about you too. I mean I was the one who found you and God, you’re my friend regardless of whether or not I have feelings for you. And I care about you. Like a friend. And maybe more. And, shit, I was so worried. Besides, I guess, I want you to be okay.”

Spock stared at him for a few moments before opening his mouth, then closing it again. Jim swallowed so loudly that he imagined it echoed in the room. “Jim. I thought you didn’t—You said you did not want me.”

Jim reached out and took Spock’s hand, feeling stupidly elated. “I said I didn’t want to have sex with you right then. I want you very much.”

Spock squeezed his hand. “The feeling is mutual.”

Jim smiled. “I made this mistake before and I don’t want to make it again, but, you’re not in a good place, Spock. And I can’t ask you to try a relationship when you’re just trying to be okay.”

Spock nodded. They sat in silence holding hands for several minutes before Spock withdrew his hand. “You have places to be, Jim.”

“Excuse me?”

“Classes to go to. Practice to attend. I cannot let your concern for me keep you from more important things.”

“ _You_ are important,” Jim insisted.

“Please go.”

Jim looked at his friend for a moment and realized, as worried as he was, staying wouldn’t help anything. “All right, call me if you need anything.” Jim pressed a kiss to Spock’s forehead.

“I will be fine.”

“You’ve said that before,” Jim said, stopping at the door and looking back at his friend warily.

“This time I mean it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw suicide
> 
> one more chapter to wrap things up and then this monster of a thing that i have been writing since last july WILL BE DONE. thank you so much for reading and commenting and kudosing you beautiful people. the next chapter will be a sort-of-epilogue that will hopefully be fluffy enough to make up for all the angst i just laid out


	12. Chapter 12

Two months later

Jim swung open the door to his room for the last time that semester. He had just finished his last final and oh, it felt so good. Ignoring the naked bed on the other side of the room—as he always did—he flopped down on his bed and sighed with relief. Someone tapped softly on the door so he propped himself up on his elbow and shouted, “Come in.”

Bones walked in with a giant grin on his face. “How does it feel to have completed a semester of college?”

“Pretty damn good, Bones. Pretty damn good,” Jim said, stretching out and putting his hands behind his head.

“So when do you want to leave?” Bones asked as he leaned his hip against the bedpost by Jim’s feet.

“We’ve been over this. I’m not going home for Christmas. I didn’t go for Thanksgiving and I’m definitely not going for Christmas,” Jim said while staring determinedly at the ceiling.

“Jim. Come on. We’ll go together. It will be fine.”

Jim swung his feet of the edge of the bed as he sat up. He gathered the shattered remnants of his euphoria from moments ago and looked at Bones. “I got out of that town for a reason and I’m not going back until I absolutely have to.”

“Is it about your mom?” Bones asked after a beat.

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay. So you’re really staying?”

“I’m really staying,” Jim said as he kicked off his shoes.

“You know you can’t stay in the dorms right?”

Jim grinned at Bones. “I was hoping you’d bring that up.”

“Oh, God, why?”

“Can I stay at your place?”

Bones sighed. “Fine. Let’s go get dinner.”

 

Halfway through dinner and after quite a bit of friendly small talk and heckling, Bones finally asked the question Jim knew he’d been dancing around for weeks. “So,” he began as he pushed some stray lettuce around his plate. “Heard anything from Spock?”

Jim set down his fork and took a swallow from his water glass. The therapist the school made him see had told him he needed to work harder on facing his emotions instead of deflecting. And he was trying, he really was. “Yeah he sent me an email last week. He gets out of the care center next Friday.” Apparently, facilities like the one Spock was in didn’t let you have phones. Or daily internet access. Jim got an email every other week. He always replied.

Bones nodded and set down his fork. “You going to see him?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“You okay for that?” Bones asked, watching him carefully.

“I’ve spent the last two weeks talking to my therapist about it. She seems to think I’m fine. So yes. I am very much ‘okay’ to do it,” Jim replied sharply.

“Didn’t mean to offend. I just worry about you, Jim.”

“I know. Sorry. I guess I’m nervous,” Jim said, putting his fork on his plate as his appetite left him.

“Why? I thought you’d be over the moon to see him again.”

“We haven’t exactly talked about where we stand. He sends me an email and I reply. He tells me how he’s feelings. Asks about the season. I don’t exactly know how his therapy is working. He could be…over it. Me.”

Bones raised an eyebrow at him. “I really doubt it.”

Jim sighed. “You’re probably right. I guess I’ll see him over break and worst case scenario I have a term to lick my wounds.”

“Way to look on the bright side, kid.”

“I do my best,” Jim said, laughing, but the tense nervousness inside him did feel a little less permanent and oppressive than before.

 

Christmas eve found Jim sitting on one of the old couches in Bones’s living room, eating Nutella from the jar and intermittently playing Super Smash Brothers. It was raining outside and he was feeling a little down. Spock was supposed to get out of therapy today, but Jim hadn’t heard from him. He supposed that part of him had been hoping that Spock would ask him to come pick him up.

Jim thunked his spoon down into the mostly empty jar of Nutella and hauled himself off the couch. He crossed into the kitchen to get a glass of water when the doorbell rang. He sullenly opened the door and was surprised to see Spock standing on the porch with a duffel bag across his sweater-clad chest and his clothes soaked through.

“Jesus,” Jim cried. “Did you walk here?”

“You were not answering your cell phone and Leonard informed me that you were staying at his home.”

Jim eyebrows flew up to his hairline. “You called Bones?”

“I was left very few options,” Spock said. They stared at each other for a moment before Spock asked, “If it is not too much trouble, may I come in?”

“Oh, God. Of course,” Jim said as he blushed and moved aside to let Spock in. “Do you want a towel or anything?”

“That would be helpful, yes.”

Jim pulled a towel from the hall closet and tossed it to Spock who dropped his duffel in the hall before crossing into the living room. Jim went into Bones’s—temporarily his—room and grabbed an old shirt from his bag. When he got back to the living room Spock was absentmindedly toweling his hair as he lifted the spoon from the Nutella jar. Feeling embarrassed, Jim collected the jar and spoon from Spock and gave him the shirt. “You can change into that if you’d like. I’ll put your clothes in the drier. I’d offer you pants but I’m pretty sure they’d just fall off of you.”

Spock nodded and pulled the sweater over his head, dropping it onto the recliner in the corner. He deftly removed his pants and undershirt before slinging Jim’s shirt over his head. It was a little baggy on him and Jim collected his clothes, horribly aware of how red his cheeks were. He tossed the clothes in the dryer, taking a few seconds to collect himself.

Returning to the living room, he sat on the other side of the couch Spock had chosen. After a few moments, Jim asked, “So you got out today?”

Spock looked at him like he was crazy. “Yes.”

“Quite the Christmas present,” Jim said with a small laugh.

“Quite,” Spock agreed with a small smile. They lapsed into a silence that made Jim anxious.

“How was it?” he asked abruptly.

“Helpful.”

Jim tapped his fingers against his jeans. “And how are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“You’re gonna have to give me more to work with, Spock,” Jim said, trying not to sound irritated. He didn’t exactly succeed.

“I do not know what to say, Jim. I am doing well. I am in the world again which feels pleasant. I am happy to see you which is unsurprising. I would like to return to my house, but I would also like to spend more time with you.”

“I’m happy to see you too, Spock,” Jim said quietly. “I can drive you over to your house once your clothes are dried.”

Spock looked down at his lap. “I find I am nervous to be alone. If it is not too much trouble would you stay at my house? I would suggest we stayed here but it is…” Spock trailed off while making an aborted gesture around the room.

“Yeah, it’s gross. If you want me to stay, I’d be more than happy to,” Jim said much more calmly than he felt. He doubted Spock meant _stay over_ stay over. Jim would be happy to sleep on the couch. An idea struck him and he laughed. “We can spend Christmas together.”

“That would be nice,” Spock said simply and all of Jim’s mirth drained away as they lapsed into silence once more.

“I…I really missed you,” Jim said looking at the blank TV screen opposite them. The ding of the dryer interrupted any response and when Jim stood to retrieve the clothes, Spock stopped him.

“I can get them.”

Jim went to his room and retrieved his wallet and keys. He tossed a change of clothes and his toothbrush into a plastic grocery bag and waited for Spock by the door.

A minute passed before Spock emerged from the bathroom and said, “I left the towel and your shirt in the hamper.”

“That’s fine,” Jim said as he opened the door. “Let me take you home.”

“All right,” Spock murmured as he grabbed the duffel he had dropped in the entryway.

 

Since there was no food in the house they ordered Chinese. Curried vegetables for Spock and General Tso’s chicken for Jim. They sat on the floor in the living room as Jim attempted to follow Spock’s lead and fumbled with chopsticks. He dropped several pieces of chicken into his lap and he was certain he heard Spock chuckle a few times before his friend finally said, “If you would like a fork, all you have to do is ask.”

“No,” Jim said with determination. “I can do this.”

He eventually ended up spearing each piece of chicken with the pointy end of his chopstick. Spock watched him with an amused expression.

They cracked their fortune cookies together. Jim’s read: Success is determined by the self. He looked over at Spock and wondered, not for the first time, what was going on behind that peaceful expression.

Spock put the leftovers in the fridge as Jim turned on the TV and sorted through the DVDs in a chest by the wall. “Want to watch a movie?” Jim called into the kitchen.

Spock appeared in the archway. “I am amenable.”

“Something festive?” Jim asked with grin, holding up an old VHS of Frosty the Snowman. Spock frowned at him and he laughed. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll keep looking.”

Jim unearthed a series of Disney DVDs and he recalled a conversation he had had with Spock. He made his choice and popped the movie into the player before settling on the couch and waiting. Spock reappeared behind the couch just as the previews ended and the menu came onto the screen.

“Fox and the Hound,” Spock said.

“Didn’t you say it was your favorite?”

“I—I did,” Spock breathed as he sank down on the couch next to Jim. “I am surprised you remembered.”

Jim shrugged. “You’d be surprised all that I remember about you.”

Jim was fairly certain Spock blushed, but he didn’t want to read too much into anything so he faced the TV and pressed play.

As a great and romantic an idea as it had sounded in his head, Jim had forgotten how horribly sentimental _The Fox and the Hound_ really was. It seemed that Spock felt something similar as halfway through the movie he reached over Jim and grabbed the remote. Jim was taken aback by the violence with which Spock slammed his thumb into the pause button. He looked at Spock. Spock looked at him and tossed the remote between them. The TV cast an alien glow over his friend’s features and Jim really looked at him for the first time since they had reunited. His hair was longer and more disheveled, so much so that Jim couldn’t even see the tips of his ears. His arched brows were obscured by slightly too long bangs and all Jim wanted to do was push those bangs out of his eyes. His fingers twitched against the armrest.

“Jim,” Spock said.

“Spock,” Jim replied.

Spock sighed minutely. “While I am happy to continue spending time with you as friend, I find myself pre-occupied by what you said to me in the hospital. I have discussed my feelings about you with my therapist. At length. I feel I have grown enough for you to consider entering into a romantic relationship with me, but if you feel otherwise, I would appreciate being informed.”

Jim burst out laughing and only regretted it a little when Spock began to scowl at him. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “I’m just…I’m happy. And it makes me laugh, okay?”

“Okay…” Spock said warily.

Jim moved the remote from between them and scooted closer to Spock. He took his hand and rubbed a thumb over his knuckles, momentarily caught up in the memory of the last time he had held Spock’s hand like this. He did his best to not let it weigh him down. “I would love to ‘enter into a romantic relationship with you,’ Spock.”

And with those words barely out of his mouth, Spock practically leapt on top of him, kissing him roughly. Jim gripped his shoulders and made a surprised sound in the back of his throat as Spock aligned their bodies on the couch, tipping Jim back so he was prone beneath Spock’s hands. He pulled away. “Isn’t this a little fast?”

Spock shook his head and Jim loved the way his hair swooshed around his ears. “I believe I have waited long enough, Jim.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Spock said forcefully before licking into his mouth. Jim moaned into the heat of his mouth, running his hands down Spock’s sides and pulling the hem of his sweater up. Spock broke their kiss, rose up on his knees and stripped his sweater and undershirt off in one motion. Jim grunted appreciatively, running a hand from the waistband of Spock’s jeans to the center of his chest. Spock gripped his hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it lightly before using it to draw Jim into a sitting position.

Jim removed his shirt quickly before fumbling with the fly of Spock’s pants as Spock ran his hands through Jim’s hair, tugging lightly in a way that made Jim feel like purring.

“You’re very forceful for someone who’s never done this before,” Jim said as Spock toppled them over onto the floor so that Jim was on top of him.

“I have a working knowledge of the concept,” Spock grunted as he tugged Jim’s pants and underpants down his hips. Jim kicked them off and to the side.

Jim paused and grinned at Spock when he huffed in frustration. “Does that mean you watched porn?”

Spock didn’t answer but he blushed all the way to his clavicle, making Jim laugh. “Well, let me know if you have any questions,” Jim said between placing kisses down Spock’s chest. He realized as he pulled Spock’s pants off that maybe he would be the one with questions. He knew how to handle sex with a girl. But sex with guy? Jim supposed he could just emulate all the things he liked. That would probably do the trick. So when Spock’s erection flagged free of his boxer briefs Jim immediately took it in his mouth, flicking his tongue against the head. The sharp intake of breath above him paired with strong of scent of Spock’s arousal made Jim’s dick pulse with want. Gripping Spock’s hips, he bobbed his head and attempted to take as much as he could in mouth. Man, that was harder than it looked.

Jim wrapped his hand around Spock’s length and began to jerk him in time with the bobbing of his head. Spock’s breathing sped up as he tugged at Jim’s hair. “I’m—“ and that was all the warning Jim got before hot semen flooded his mouth. He didn’t exactly mind and swallowed as much of it as he could. Some dribbled down around Spock’s dick and Jim wiped it up with his hand, grabbing Spock’s briefs to clean off his fingers. He felt a little proud of his first blow job. In fact, he kind of wanted to do it again, but Spock had other ideas as he pressed Jim into a sitting position against the couch and kissed the taste of him from Jim’s mouth. Spock took Jim’s erection in his hand and set a quick pace that had Jim breathless almost immediately.

Spock released his dick and then took Jim into his mouth, proving he had little to no gag reflex as he could almost press his lips against Jim’s stomach. He pulled off, sucking, once, twice and then Jim was coming down his throat.

“Woah,” Jim said as Spock flopped against the couch next to him.

“Yes,” Spock agreed.

“If we don’t go to bed now, I’m going to pass out on the ground,” Jim said. Spock stood and reached a hand down to him. “We had best get you to bed then,” Spock said, raising an eyebrow.

“Why, Spock, are you flirting with me?”

Spock smiled that small smile at him and Jim took his hand. They wandered back to Spock’s bedroom and fell into bed, a tangle of naked limbs. Spock moved his stuffed animal to the side table as he adjusted the covers over them. Jim stared at it for a moment.

“You know, I saw that stuffed animal when I came here with Bones.” Spock didn’t say anything so Jim continued, “I came in here and it smelled so much like you that I knew it was your room. And I saw that stuffed animal and I just…cried. It was sitting on your bed. And it was so…sad.”

Spock rubbed a hand down his back. “Stuffed animals do not have feelings, Jim,” he said.

“I know that,” Jim said, the seriousness of the moment dissipated by Spock’s particular brand of humor.

They held each other in silence for a few minutes before Spock’s breathing evened out and Jim felt the last of the tension he’d been carrying around for the last few months drain out of him like water. For the first time in a while, Jim felt at peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you beautiful readers for sticking with me. i wrote some porn for yall even though I didn't exactly feel it was hyper necessary. Consider a celebration of completion. <3


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